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A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 


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A  Kentucky  Colonel 


A  NOVEL 


OPIE  READ 


Author  of  "The  Carpetbagger,"  -'Old  Ebenezer,"  "My  Young 

Master,"   "The  Jucklins,"   " On  the  Suwanee  River," 

"A  Tennessee  Judge,"   "The  Colossus,"^  "  Len 

Gansett,"  '-Emmet  Bonlore,"  "The Tear 

in    the    Cup   and  Other   Stories," 

« 'The  Wives  of  the  Prophet. ' ' 


ILLUSTRATED 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1889,  1890, 
BY  OPIE  P.  READ. 

ALL  RIGHTS  RKSERVED 


^>       ^ 


fU  VO 

A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 



CHAPTER  L 

THE  WHITE  TURNPIKE. 

MY  affairs,  if  indeed  it  could  be  said  that  I  had 
affairs,  were  in  a  condition  to  inspire  a  man  with  a 
desire  to  exchange  a  large  territory  of  hope  for  a  few 
acres  of  reality.  I  had  just  drifted,  by  the  merest 
changing  of  a  current,  into  Louisville,  Ky.,  and,  it 
seemed,  by  a  sort  of  sudden  arousal,  found  myself 
sitting  in  the  rotunda  of  a  hotel.  I  shall  not  enforce 
upon  the  reader  the  tedium  of  family  history,  neither 
shall  I  give  in  detail  an  account  of  my  previous  life. 
I  had,  as  all  my  relatives  declared,  and  as  I  strongly 
suspected,  been  pretty  much  of  a  failure  from  my 
earliest  infancy;  and  now,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  I 
was  a  fair  type  of  that  class  of  Southern  young  men 
whose  prospects  of  a  life  of  thoughtlessness  and  ease 
had  been  destroyed  by  a  decree  which  we  all  now 
cheerfully  admit  was  issued  by  the  God  of  justice. 
My  early  education  had  been  impractical;  my  latter- 
day  training  had,  as  yet,  been  without  result.  I  had 
been  a  clerk  in  a  village  store;  had  tried  to  keep  books 
for  a  wholesale  house:  and  lastly,  had  tried  my  hand 


A  KENTUCKY  CO^ONEj 


at  reporting  on  a  daily  paper.  The  editor,  I  soon  dis 
covered,  was  not  in  a  position  to  appreciate  an  essayist. 
Ke  wanted,  not,  he  said,  a  man  to  chop  down  the  sap 
ling  of  theory,  but  an  active  young  fellow  to  dig  up 
the  root  of  fact.  My  thoughts  were  not  pleasant  as  I 
sat  in  the  hotel,  for  I  had  but  a  few  dollars,  and  I 
could  not  help  but  look  with  a  mild  degree  of  envy 
at  a  fat  old  fellow,  the  owner  of  a  brewery,  doubtless, 
who  lazily  threw  down  a  newspaper  and  waddled  his 
way  into  the  dining-room.  Just  then,  a  man  who  sat 
near  me  remarked  to  a  companion: 

"  Yes,  as  you  say,  the  slightest  circumstance  some 
times  changes  the  course  of  a  man's  life;  a  mere  step 
ping  aside,  the  reaching  out  of  the  hand,  as  it  were.'* 

I  had  reached  over  to  pick  up  the  newspaper  which 
the  fat  man  had  thrown  aside,  and,  smiling  as  I  took  up 
the  sheet,  I  mused:  "  Perhaps  that  reaching  out  of 
the  hand  may  exercise  an  influence  on  my  life.  Ah, 
here  is  a  clue,"  I  added,  as  I  read  the  following  adver 
tisement: 

\A7 ANTED  —  An  old  gentleman,  who  has  turned  his  attention  to  lit 
erary  pursuits,  would  like  to  employ  a  man  of  education  and  experi 
ence  to  serve  as  an  amanuensis.     Apply  at  the  Osbury  farm,  Nubbin  Ridga 
pike,  six  miles  from  Emryville,  Shellcut  County,  Kentucky. 

"  Yes,"  I  mused,  in  sarcastic  comment  on  the  con 
versation  of  the  two  men,  "  the  current  of  my  life  is 
changed.  Now  that  I  have  stretched  forth  my  hand, 
drawn  this  newspaper  to  me  and  read  this  advertise 
ment,  I  must  sit  here  and  watch  for  the  first  signs  of 
the  revolution." 

Suddenly  looking  up,  I  saw  that  a  man,  whom  I  had 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONMt.  J 

not  noticed  before,  was  closely  watching  me.  I  care  not 
how  unconcerned  a  man  may  be,  there  are  persons 
whose  espionage  makes  him  nervous.  I  got  up  and 
walked  out  into  the  street,  so  determined  was  I  to 
be  rid  of  that  peculiar  look  of  scrutiny,  but  I  had 
not  gone  more  than  half  a  block  when,  glancing 
back,  I  saw  the  gimlet-eyed  fellow  lazily  skulking 
after  me.  I  turned  into  another  street.  He  followed 
me.  I  crossed  a  vacant  lot,  but  he  came  on,  skulk 
ing  slowly.  Finally,  after  going  through  an  alley, 
only  to  find  that  he  had  followed  me,  I  stopped,  walked 
back  a  few  paces,  confronted  the  fellow,  and  asked  him 
what  he  meant  by  skulking  in  my  tracks.  The  ques 
tion  did  not  in  the  least  disconcert  him.  His  coolness 
enraged  me. 

"  Who  are  you?  "   I  demanded. 

"That  is  of  no  consequence,"  he  replied.  "The 
question  is,  who  are  you?  " 

There  has  ever  been  a  mixture  of  pride  and  individ 
ual  satisfaction  with  self  in  our  family,  and  with 
haughty,  though,  of  course,  foolish  stress,  I  said: 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Philip  Burwood." 

The  name  did  not  strike  him  with  the  least  awe. 
Indeed,  his  countenance  underwent  no  change;  and, 
thinking  his  indifference  arose  from  his  having  failed  to 
catch  my  name,  I  repeated  it. 

"  I  understand,"  he  replied,  in  a  voice  as  mild  as  act 
apology.  "  What's  your  business?" 

By  this  time  my  eyes  were  opened  to  the  belief  that 
I  must  be  suspected  of  some  crime,  and  that  this  man, 
if  he  were  so  disposed,  could  arrest  me  and  lock  roe 


g  A  KEfrTVe/ZY  COLONKM* 

up.  This  was  far  from  being  a  pleasant  reflection;  for, 
although,  by  means  of  telegraphing  to  friends,  I  could 
set  myself  right,  yet  it  would  be  humiliating  to  have 
my  relatives  know  that  I  had  even  been  arrested  on 
suspicion.  I  had  no  real  business  in  the  city;  in  fact, 
so  aimless  had  been  my  wandering  that  a  truthful 
statement  would  seem  evasive;  so,  with  a  sudden  im 
pulse,  remembering  the  advertisement,  I  replied: 

"  I  suppose  you  have  authority  to  question  strangers, 
otherwise  I  should  pay  no  attention  to  your  impudence. 
I  arrived  in  the  city  a  few  hours  ago,  and  am  on  my 
way  to  answer  an  advertisement." 

"  What  advertisement?  " 

As  correctly  as  I  could,  I  repeated  the  words  of  the 
"  want  item." 

0  Ah,  hah,  I  saw  that  advertisement  myself,"   said 
he.     "  In  fact,  I  know  old    Remington  Osbury.     Ever 
see  htm?  " 

"  No.     What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  " 

"  Oh,  good  enough  sort  of  an  old  fellow.  Seems  to 
be  well  fixed." 

"  Are  you  satisfied,"  I  asked,  after  a  few  moments' 
silence,  "  that  I  am  not  the  man  you  want?  " 

"  Yes;  but  not  so  much  by  what  you  have  said  as  by 
what  I  have  seen.  If  yon  are  going  out  to-day,"  he 
added,  "  you'd  better  be  stirring  your  stumps,  as  the 
train  for  Emryville  will  be  pulling  out  pretty  soon." 

1  had  turned  away,  and  was  walking  back  toward  the 
hotel,  when  the  first  serious  thought  of  applying  for 
the  position  of  amanuensis  occurred  to  me.     "  Why 
not  give  it  a  trial?  "  I  mused.     "  I  have  no  prospects  of 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  g 

securing  employment  here."  I  hastened  to  the  hotel, 
got  my  valise,  made  inquiry  as  to  the  train  I  should 
take,  and  was  soon  rushing  on  my  way  toward  Emry- 
ville,  accompanied  by  that  fondest  of  all  companions  — 
hope.  The  weather  was  beautiful,  in  a  season  when 
the  full-grown  hickory  leaf  marks  the  deepening  earnest 
ness  of  spring. 

I  reached  Emryville  late  at  night.  When  I  inquired 
for  a  cheap  hotel,  an  economical  precaution  which 
necessity  demanded,  an  old  negro,  with  a  large  tin  sign 
on  his  cap,  seized  my  valise  and  told  me  to  follow  him. 
"  Cheapes'  hotel  in  de  city,  suh,"  said  he.  "  Boun'  ter 
be  de  cheapes',  'caze  it's  de  only  one  yere." 

"  In  that  event,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  your  man." 

"  Yas,  suh,  but  I  thanks  yer  all  de  same.  Er  pusson 
neber  loses  nothin'  by  bein*  thankful.  I  foun'  er  quar 
ter  wunst  an'  wa'n't  thankful  'caze  it  wa'n't  er  dollar,  an'' 
blame  ef  I  didn'  lose  it  To'  night.  Step  dis  way,  suh. 
Sort  o'  er  hole  dar  whar  de  hpugs  been  er  wallerin '. " 

"Do  you  know  where  the  Osbury  farm  is?"  I 
asked. 

"  Oh,  yas,  suh,  mighty  well.  Hunted  'possums  all 
Voun*  in  dat  neighborhood  To  de  wah.  I  uster  b'long 
ter  ole  man  Eli  Carter,  dat  libed  at  de  foot  o'  de  ridge. 
Step  dis  way,  suh.  Lot  o'  lumber  scattered  ober  dar. 
Boys  tore  it  down  ter  git  er  rat  out  frum  under  it. " 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  Colonel  Remington  Os 
bury,  I  suppose?" 

"  Mighty  well,  suh.  Uster  own  my  wife  in  de  siabc 
time." 

sart  &f  &  mm  is 


JO  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL, 

"  He's  er  cuis  pusson,  suh,  ef  dar  eber  wuz  one  in 
dis  heah  worl',  but  folks  do  say  he  smart." 

The  hospitalities  of  the  little  hotel  to  which  I  was 
conducted  were  presided  over  by  old  Major  Patterson, 
a  man  with  so  flowing  a  courtesy  that  he  seemed  ever 
to  have  just  made  a  bow  or  to  be  in  contemplation  of 
making  one;  and  who  was  so  delicate  of  expression 
that  he  always  said  limb  when  he  meant  leg.  He  had 
been  a  sort  of  well-fed  under-quartermaster  in  the 
army,  with  the  rank  of  second  lieutenant,  hence  his 
present  title  of  major. 

"  I  want  you  to  make  yourself  at  home,  here,  suh," 
he  said,  when  he  had  conducted  me  to  my  room. 
"This  country  is  on  something  of  a  boom  at  present," 
he  added,  when  he  had  placed  a  lighted  candle  on  the 
bureau.  "  Coming  out  of  the  kinks  mighty  peartly,  suh. 
Did  you  come  with  the  idea  of  locating  among  us?  " 

When  I  had  explained  that  I  was  going  out  to  the 
Osbury  farm,  he  said: 

"  Ah,  I  know  the  old  Colonel  mighty  well.  Smart, 
suh;  smart  as  a  whip.  He  can  turn  his  hand  to  any 
thing.  Tell  you  what  he  done:  Took  a  notion  some 
time  ago  that  he  would  write.  Pitched  in  and  done  it 
like  a  flash." 

"  Successfully?  "  I  asked. 

"He  did,  and  nothing  shorter,  suh.  He  showed  me 
what  he  had  wrote  one  day,  and  I  wush  I  may  die  dead 
ef  I  couldn't  read  it  mighty  nigh  all  without  my  specks0 
Oh,  I  tell  you  what's  a  fack,  Osbury  is  a  remarkable 
man.  Well,  he's  got  a  chance  to  be.  Got  a  fust-rate 
farm  and  money  out  at  intrust,  I  reckon.  So  you're 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  \\ 

going  out  there?    Sorter  kin  to  the  old  man,  mebbe." 

"  No;  I  am  not  related  to  him." 

"  Reckon  you  air  some  printer  that  has  come  after  his 
writin'.  Well,  you'll  find  him  a  mighty  'commodatin' 
man.  The  local  option  people  have  sorter  got  this 
town  by  the  horns.  Don't  reckon  youVe  got  a  bottle 
with  you." 

He  snuffed  the  candle,  grinned  at  his  reflection  in 
the  looking-glass  of  the  bureau,  grinned  at  me,  broke 
out  into  a  sort  of  a  wheezy  laugh,  a  sort  of  damaged 
chuckle,  and  then  said: 

"  If  you've  got  a  bottle  you  neenter  be  afeerd  to  pull 
it  out  where  I  am.  The  Lawd  in  heaven  knows  that  I 
wouldn't  repo't  you,"  he  impressively  added,  when  I 
assured  him  that  I  had  no  bottle. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  Major  came  to  my  room, 
and,  with  another  one  of  his  damaged  chuckles,  told  me 
that  he  had  secured  a  bottle  after  long  persuasion  with 
an  old  fellow  who  had  come  to  town  to  serve  as  a  jury 
man.  He  made  no  reference  to  whisky  or  brandy,  as 
if  such  broadness  of  speech  were  in  ill  comport  with  his 
established  delicacy  of  expression,  but  seemed  to  think 
that  the  mere  mention  of  *  bottle  "  should  give  entire 
satisfaction.  When  I  told  him  that  I  had  forsworn  the 
use  of  intoxicating  liquors,  he  dre'w  his  hand  across 
his  face,  as  if  he  would  wipe  off  a  disappointed  expres* 
sion  of  countenance,  and  said: 

"  Well,  if  that's  the  case,  I  reckon  the  best  thing  you 
can  do  is  to  come  down  and  eat  a  snack." 
*  After  breakfast  I  asked  the  Major  if  he  could  send 
me  out  to  the  Osbury 


17  *  KENTUCKY  COLCKEl. 

"  Bless  your  life,"  said  he,  with  an  air  of  regret,  "  I 
don't  see  how  I  can.  If  I  had  knowed  yesterday 
mornin'  that  you  was  comin',  I  could  have  sent  you  out 
on  my  buckboard,  but  I  hired  it  out  to  a  land 
hunter." 

"  There's  a  livery  stable  in  town,  I  suppose. " 

0  Uster  be  one  here  —  one  of  the  best  in  the  country 
—  owned  by  a  gentleman  named  Dobbins.  Had  a  bay 
team  that  would  have  suited  to  a  't.'  Them  bays 
could  trot,  I  tell  you.  Bought  them  from  old  Anthony 
Philpott  when  he  sold  out  to  go  to  Texas  in  seventy- 
one.  Got  them  at  a  bargain,  I  tell  you.  Stable 
burned  down  about  two  years  ago,  and  the  bays  got 
burned,  along  with  Dobbins'  brother  and  a  young 
feller  named  Hanks  that  was  asleep  on  the  hay.  Dob 
bins  never  did  git  over  the  loss.  Sence  then  he  has  been 
town  marshal.  Well,  suh,"  he  answered,  with  another 
chuckle,  "  it's  the  nachulest  thing  in  the  world  for  a 
man  after  he's  been  in  the  livery  stable  bus'ness  to 
run  for  town  marshal,  and  he's  elected  mighty  nigh 
ever'  time.  If  you  want  to  see  if  you  ken  git  a  team, 
I'll  go  'round  town  with  you." 

"  I  have  about  decided  to  walk,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  now,  that  ain't  a  bad  idee.  You'll  find  a 
good  deal  along  the  road  that's  interestin'  to  a  man 
that  likes  nature  and  a  good  artickle  of  spring  water. 
The  pike  runs  all  the  way  to  Osbury's,  and  stops  a 
little  beyant  there  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge.  Ever'  now 
and  then,  before  you  git  there,  you'll  think  the  pike  is 
goin'  to  be  stopped  by  the  spurs  of  the  ridge  and 
knobs  that  air  scattered  aroundt  but  keep  on,  and  you'll 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL,  13 

find  that  the  pike  winds  around  somehow.  Wush  1 
had  nothin'  to  do,  for  I'd  like  to  go  with  you;  but  you 
see  I'm  kept  on  the  jump  here  all  the  time." 

I  so  much  attracted  the  attention  of  the  villagers 
that  they  crowded  about  the  "  piazza  "  of  the  tavern 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  me.  Every  man  who  had  a  lot  for 
sale  —  and  it  seemed  that  they  were  all  land-owners, 
and  consequently  much  interested  in  the  growth  of  the 
"  city"  —  pressed  forward  to  have  a  word  with  me  and 
to  assure  me  tl  at  if  I  had  an  idea  of  settling  I  could 
not  do  better  than  to  stop  in  Emryville,  among  people 
who,  as  an  anxious  old  fellow  expressed  it,  were  the 
"  best  folks  on  the  top  side  uv  the  Lordalmighty's  green 
yeath."  Some  of  them  followed  me  out  to  the  edge 
of  the  town,  stopped  me  on  a  stone  bridge  that  arched 
a  small  stream,  and,  with  deepened  earnestness, 
besought  me  to  consult  a  vital  interest  which  lay  so 
close  to  me,  but  which,  by  a  little  negligence  on  my 
part,  might  pass  forever  beyond  my  reach.  At  school 
I  had  won  distinction  as  a  debater,  and,  suddenly 
encouraged  by  the  recollection  of  this,  I  began  to  plead 
my  cause,  but  they  trod  upon  my  argument.  Finally, 
in  a  tone  of  voice  that  left  no  doubt  as  to  my  sincerity, 
I  told  them  that  if  mountains  were  selling  at  two  dol 
lars  apiece,  I  could  not  buy  a  mole-hill.  A  white  dust 
instantly  arose  on  the  "  pike;  "  the  town  lot  "  boomers  " 
were  stalking  toward  borne. 

There  is  nothing  mort  beautiful  than  a  Kentucky 
day  when  spring  is  warmtd  into  blushing  loveliness 
by  the  approach  of  summer.  The  turnpike,  smooth 
and  white,  stretched  out  in  a  wavering  line  as  far  as 


J4  A  KENTUCKY  COLONLL. 

I  could  see.  On  each  side  of  the  road  there  lay  broad 
farming-lands,  with  here  and  there  a  rugged  knob,  a 
sort  of  hiccough,  it  seemed  to  me.  I  had  gone  but  a 
short  distance  when  I  saw  a  tall,  lank  fellow  skulking 
along,  weaving  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the  other. 
I  soon  discovered  that  he  was  kicking  an  oyster  can. 
Once,  the  can,  upon  receiving  an  ill-directed  and  unin 
tentionally  vigorous  kick,  flew  over  a  rail  fence  and 
startled  a  lark  from  her  dewy  bath.  The  fellow  stopped, 
cast  a  calculating  glance  at  the  fence,  hesitated  a 
moment  longer  and  then  climbed  over. 

He  took  up  the  can,  climbed  back,  carefully  placed 
it  on  the  turnpike,  looked  ahead  as  though  making  a 
sort  of  calculation,  and  then  gave  the  can  a  resounding 
kick.  By  this  time  I  had  overtaken  him. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  I. 

He  turned  with  a  start  as  though  I  had  rudely  broken 
his  meditation.  His  face  bespoke  a  nature  of  indo 
lence,  and  his  eyes  looked  the  drowsy  picture  of  lazi 
ness.  He  was  stoop-shouldered,  his  legs  were  dispro 
portionately  long,  and  his  feet  were  of  unusual  size.  I 
noticed  him  thus  closely,  because  in  him  I  recog 
nized  a  type  of  a  shiftless  and  irresponsible  class  of 
natives. 

"  Mornin',"  he  answered,  and  then  looked  toward  the 
can  as  though  unable  to  decide  whether  to  continue  his 
association  with  it  or  to  cultivate  my  acquaintance; 
but  his  mental  struggle  was  brief,  for,  turning  to  me, 
he  remarked: 

"  Ef  you  air  goin*  my  way  I'll  jine  you." 

"  All  right;  come  on." 


\  5 


. 

£  KWTUCXY  COL&N&JL 

*  Mighty  putty  weather/*  he  said,  as  he  cast  a 
well  glance  at  the  can. 

"Yes,  beautiful." 

"  I  oughter  be  plowin',  right  now/'  he  added,  with 
a  tone  of  anxiety  in  his  voice.  "  I  pitched  out  to  town 
yistidy  airter  tellin*  my  wife  that  I  wouldn't  be  gone 
long,  but  I'm  jest  gittin'  back.  I  live  a  little  this  side 
uv  Colonel  Osbury's." 

"  I  am  going  to  his  house,"  I  answered. 

"  Sho  nuff  ?  Wall,  then  you  can  do  me  a  mighty 
big  favor  —  you  ken  drap  in  at  my  house  —  won't  take 
a  minit." 

"  What  for  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  took  off  his  white  cotton  hat,  humped  his  shoul 
ders,  reached  down  between  his  long  neck  and  shirt 
collar,  pulled  out  a  raveling,  and  then  said: 

"  To  tell  my  wife  that  I  couldn't  git  away  frum  town 
no  sooner." 

4t  But  I  don't  know  that  anything  kept  you  in  town." 

"  You  ken  'tend  like  you  do,  kain't  you?  Wife,  she 
ain't  in  good  health,  an*  I  don't  want  her  to  think  I 
would  stay  away  on  my  owr  acco'd.  Help  me  out, 
Mr.  —  what  mout  your  name  bt  -  " 

I  told  him. 

"  Wall,  then,  help  me  out,  Mr.  Burwood,  an'  mebby 
I  kin  help  you  git  outen  a  scrape  some  time.  Dinged 
ef  I  oughtenter  be  plowin'  right  now.  Been  a-breakin' 
up  some  terbacker  land  whar  clover's  been  fur  a  year 
or  two,  an'  dinged  ef  it  don't  smell  as  sweet  as  a  pie 
when  you  turn  it  up  to  the  sun.  I'll  tell  you  suaip'n 
ef  yets  won't  say  nothin'  about  it.  Promise?  " 


1 6  A  KENTUCKY  COLON&L* 

"  Yes." 

He  came  closer  to  me,  and,  in  a  hoarse  whisper, 
said: 

"  I  was  chuck  up  last  night.  Got  a  bottle  from  a 
feller  an*  whooped  it  up  with  the  ole  Major  that  runs 
the  hotel.  Lost  my  recollection  summers,  an'  didn't 
find  it  till  about  daylight  this  mornin'.  I  don't  feel  so 
bad,  though.  Wnen  a  feller  has  hil*  off  from  licker  fur  a 
good  while  an'  then  gits  at  it,  w'y,  it  don't  pizen  him 
right  at  wunst.  Coin*  to  stay  in  this  part  uv  the 
country?  Sho  nuff  ?  "  he  added,  when  I  had  told  him 
that  such  was  my  intention.  "  Wall,  then,  I  reckon 
we'll  see  a  good  deal  uv  each  other,  but  we  ain't  ap' 
to  be  sich  mighty  friends  unless  you  sorter  help  me 
patch  up  things  with  my  wife.  I  oughter  be  a-plowinf 
this  minit." 

By  this  time  I  had  begun  to  regret  that  I  had  over 
taken  the  fellow,  for  his  nonsensical  prattle  was  nerv 
ously  annoying.  The  scenery,  more  rugged  than  the 
lands  that  lay  closer  to  town,  was  beautiful  with  the 
sort  of  freshness  that  suggests  a  day  of  wideawakeness 
following  a  night  of  perfect  rest.  Here  and  there  a 
long  rib  from  the  hills — a  ridged  spike  that  looked  like 
a  sturgeon's  backbone  —  shot  out  into  the  tillable  land. 
These  backbones  were  covered  in  some  places  with 
scrubby  oaks;  and  sometimes  a  cow  in  a  clover  field, 
suddenly  made  furious  by  an  attack  of  flies,  would 
rush  up  into  the  gnarled  bushes  as  if  her  breakneck 
impetuosity  would  destroy  her  tormentors.  But  when 
I  turned  from  my  annoyer  to  watch  the  lace-like  shadow 
of  a  fleecy  cloud  flying  across  a  field,  or  when  I  sud- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  ij 

denly  stopped  to  look  at  two  rabbits  cutting  coquettish 
capers  in  a  corner  of  the  fence,  he  would  irritate  me 
with  some  grating  remark  —  would  want  to  know  if  I 
had  ever  wrestled  with  a  "  yaller  feller  named  Wes  what 
lives  in  town,"  or  "'how  would  I  like  to  lie  down  in  the 
shade  and  stay  there  as  long  as  I  wanted  to." 

"  How  far  are  we  from  Osbury's?  "  I  asked,  intending, 
if  the  distance  were  more  than  a  mile,  to  stop  and  wait 
until  my  "  discordant  accompaniment "  was  out  of 
sight, 

"  We  ken  see  the  house  when  we  skelp  the  top  uv 
the  rise  yander." 

When  we  did  "skelp  the  rise,"  as  he  expressed  it,  I 
saw,  away  off  to  the  right,  a  large  and  old-looking  brick 
house.  It  was  situated  on  a  gently  rising  hill,  and  was 
surrounded  by  tall  trees.  I  shall  never  forget  my  first 
glimpse  of  that  house.  Impractical  even  unto  a  ro 
mantic  fault,  I  fancied  that  it  must  be  a  castle,  pro 
vided  with  a  moat  and  drawbridge,  and,  hurried  into  a 
reverie,  I  had  begun  to  discern  a  tower  and  a  sentinel, 
when  my  companion  snatched  me  back  to  Kentucky 
by  remarking  that  he  should  be  plowing  that  very 
minute. 

"  Well,  go  on  and  plow!  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  But  will  you  stop  at  my  house — yander  it  is,  that 
cabin  right  down  thar  —  an' tell  my  wife  that  I  couldn't 
git  away  frum  town  no  sooner?" 

"  No. " 

"  Wall,  then,  whut  you  reckon  it's  best  fur  me  ter 
do?" 

"  How  the  deuce  do  I  know?  " 

t 


I  g  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you  mout  have  a  fam'ly  yo'se'f. 
Hold  on  a  minit.  Tell  you  whut  I'll  do.  I'll  slip 
around  to  the  stable  an'  git  my  team  an'  go  to  plowin* 
without  lettin'  her  know  that  I'm  on  the  place.  Wall, 
good  day.  Ef  you  settle  down  in  this  part  uv  the 
country,  drop  over  an'  see  me  some  time." 

A  few  minutes  later  I  passed  his  house,  and  saw  a 
large  woman  standing  in  the  door,  with  her  hands  on 
her  hips.  In  the  yard,  near  the  fence,  there  sat  the 
most  pitiable  child  I  have  ever  seen.  Pale,  white- 
haired  and  ragged,  with  a  smear  of  molasses  and  ashes 
across  its  face,  the  little  thing  sat  marking  on  the 
ground  with  a  stick.  I  saw  that  heart-moving  face 
many  and  many  a  time  after  that  day,  but  no  experi 
ence  that  may  come  to  me  in  my  after  life  can  blot  out 
—  without  blotting  out  reason  itself — the  memory  of 
the  last  time  I  saw  that  pale  child. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  MINT  JULEP. 

COLONEL  REMINGTON  OSBURY  gave  me  a  tight- 
gripping  welcome.  He  did  this  even  before  I  had 
given  my  name  or  stated  my  business,  showing  that  he 
was  a  true  Kentuckian  with  a  sort  of  miscellaneous 
and  unanalytical  courtesy.  When  I  went  up,  the  old 
gentleman  was  standing  at  the  gate.  He  was  rather 
large,  and  was  somewhat  above  the  medium  height. 
His  face,  with  the  exception  of  an  almost  white,  short 
and  bristly  mustache,  was  clean-shaven,  and  I  noticed 
that  his  eyes  were  intensely  black.  Character  was 
written  all  over  him,  1  thought ;  indeed,  there  was,  it 
seemed,  so  much  character  that  not  all  of  it  could  be 
strong. 

He  took  my  valise,  and  told  me  to  walk  right  in  and 
make  myself  at  home,  I  made  several  attempts  to 
tell  him  my  name  and  to  state  why  I  had  come,  but  he 
kept  gurgling  out,  like  a  well-filled  demijohn,  so  in 
cessant  a  flow  of  welcome  that  I  could  say  nothing. 
This  excessive,  this  unheard-of  courtesy  to  a  stranger 
puzzled  me  until  I  discovered,  upon  being  shown  into 
the  library,  that  the  old  fellow  had  been  amusing  him* 
self  with  mint  juleps. 

"  Colonel  Osbury,  my  name  is " 

"  Yes,  suh,  yes;  glad  to  see  you.     Let  me  make  you 


29  *  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

a  julep.  All  my  people  have  gone  on  a  sort  of  feed 
expedition  over  at  one  of  the  neighbors'.  Sort  of  a 
marriage  there,  too,  I  think." 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  don't  drink  anything,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do;  oh,  yes.  Now,  let  me  show  you 
how  to  make  a  julep.  Jupiter,  you  know,  broke  the 
jug  that  contained  the  nectar  of  the  gods  when  some 
fellow  had  given  him  a  sip  of  a  julep.  Jube  was  a  sen 
sible  fellow.  Now,  here,  see  this  mint  ?  You  want  to 
pick  the  sprigs  off  this  way.  The  commonly-held  idea 
that  you  must  crowd  down  the  stems  is  a  fraud. 
Drink  this." 

I  drank  it.  When  he  had  made  another  julep,  he 
sat  down  on  a  leather-covered  lounge,  sipped  the  per 
fumed  drink,  and  then,  placing  the  tumbler  on  a  table 
near  at  hand,  said: 

"  I'm  going  to  lie  down  here  now  and  go  to  sleep. 
Billy — call  you  Billy,  anyway — light  that  pipe  up 
there  and  hand  it  to  me,  will  you  ?  Thank  you," 
he  added,  when  I  had  complied.  "  Now,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  let  me  sleep  ten  minutes,  and  I'll  be  all 
right. " 

I  sat  there  gazing  at  him.  The  pipe  fell  on  the 
floor.  The  Colonel  was  asleep.  "A  befitting  candi 
date  for  literary  honors,"  I  mused.  "  I  fear  that  I  am 
chasing  a  wild  turkey  with  a  lap-dog.  What  if  his 
people  come  back  before  he  awakes  and  should  find  me 
here?  "  The  Colonel  snored.  I  could  hear  the  hens, 
moved  to  minstrelsy  by  the  sunshine,  singing  in  the 
yard,  and  the  occasional  neigh  of  a  horse  startled  me 
into  a  nervous  fear  that  the  other  members  of  the 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  2 1 

household  were  returning.  I  sprang  to  my  feet 
Some  one  was  knocking  at  the  door.  No,  it  was  only 
a  dog  scratching  himself  on  the  porch  and  bumping 
the  floor  with  his  "  elbow."  At  last,  having  grown 
bolder  under  so  many  false  alarms,  I  became  sufficiently 
quiet  to  look  about  the  room.  Many  shelves,  well 
filled  with  books,  revived  my  hopes.  After  all,  the 
Colonel  might  seriously  contemplate  a  literary  per 
formance.  Several  old  paintings  hung  on  the  walls, 
one  of  which  was  especially  noticeable  —  that  of  two 
men  bending  over  a  handsome  fellow  who  lay 
on  the  grass.  A  case  of  surgical  instruments,  and  a 
carriage  disappearing  over  the  brow  of  a  hill,  told  the 
story  of  a  duel.  The  room  was  heavily  furnished,  and 
the  broad  fire-place,  with  its  large  brass  andirons, 
spoke  of  a  day  when  the  probable  scarcity  of  wood 
entered  not  into  the  calculations  of  household  econ 
omy.  On  each  end  of  the  mantel-piece  there  sat  two 
plaster-of-paris  kittens,  with  red  eyes  and  blue  mus 
taches,  and  I  noticed  a  large  turkey-wing  fan  hanging 
near  the  fire-place. 

The  Colonel  continued  to  snore,  and  I,  turning  from 
the  pictures  and  the  many  marks  of  a  long-ago  farm 
house,  gave  myself  up  to  a  closer  study  of  his  face. 
His  forehead  was  of  that  gracefully  receding  type  so 
often  seen  in  old  prints,  and  his  nose  was  aggressively 
prominent,  but  his  chin  lacked  strength.  He  was  ap 
parently  about  fifty-five  years  of  age. 

The  farm-life  sounds,  which  seem  to  attain  a  sort  of 
ripeness  when  the  full-grown  red-oak  leaf  marks  a  seri 
ousness  in  the  age  of  spring,  came  with  reverie-inspir- 


22  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL, 

ing  influence  into  the  room.  The  alarming  cry  of  a 
hen  proclaimed  the  near  approach  of  a  hawk ;  the 
scream  of  a  hawk  bespoke  a  gnawing  keenness  of 
appetite ;  the  ducks  "  quacked,"  and  a  turkey  gobbler 
sent  a  hollow  echo  down  into  the  woods. 

The  Colonel  muttered,  rubbed  his  eyes,  sat  up,  and, 
seeing  me,  started. 

"  Colonel,"  said  I,  "  you  have  enjoyed  your  nap,  I 
hope. " 

He  looked  at  me,  and,  by  a  puzzled  expression  on 
his  face,  I  knew  he  was  trying  to  recall  the  circum 
stances  of  my  arrival. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  Let  me  see,  I  believe  your 
name  is  —  Yes,"  he  added,  when  I  had  told  him,  "  I 
remember  now."  He  did  not  remember,  for  this  was 
the  first  opportunity  which  he  had  given  me  to  make 
myself  known.  His  puzzled  expression,  instead  of 
fading  away,  grew  deeper. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Burwood,  but  I  received  you  all 
right  when  you  came,  didn't  I  ?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"  Well,"  —  the  puzzled  expression  grew  deeper  still, — 
"  what  I  want  to  get  at  is  this:  Did  I  make  a  fool  of 
myself?  Could  you  see — that  is,  did  you  detect  that 
I  was  a  little  the  worse  for  having  —  having  beguiled  a 
lonesome  hour  with  a  companion — blast  it  all,  did  you 
think  that  I  had  been  drinking  too  much  ?" 

"  No,"  I  replied  with  a  soothing  lie. 

The  puzzled  expression  vanished.  The  Colonel 
shook  hands  with  me,  opened  a  door  that  led  into  a 
hail,  shook  hands  with  me  again  s  and  hinted $  in  a  deli- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLON £.1,  2| 

way,  that  he  would  like  to  know  what  he  could 
do  for  me. 

I  spoke  of  the  advertisement  and  handed  him  several 
letters  of  recommendation.  He  read  them  carefully, 
and  then,  as  he  returned  the  papers,  nodded  his 
head  in  approval. 

"  Some  time  ago,"  said  he,  "  I  took  up  the  idea  of 
writing  a  history  of  Shellcut  County  ;  not  with  the  in 
tention  of  going  into  dry  detail,  but  to  give,  in  con 
nection  with  necessary  facts,  numerous  anecdotes 
characteristic  of  our  old-timers.  Thus  far  I  have  done 
very  little  work  on  it  because  I  have  not  been  able  to 
secure  the  necessary  help.  I  have  been,  especially 
during  my  later  years,  considerable  of  a  reader,  but  I 
don't  understand  the  knack  of  writing  a  thing  as  it 
should  be  set  down.  My  people  have  laughed  at  my 
attempts  —  shall  I  make  you  a  julep  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  I'll  make  myself  one.  Well,"  he  continued, 
busying  himself  with  the  mint,  "  I  decided  that  I  would 
get  an  amanuensis.  I  put  in  an  advertisement — wait  a 
minute,  Mr.  Burwood.  Before  we  go  further,  let  me 
ask  you  a  question.  Were  you  ever  amanuensis  to 
George  D%  Prentice  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied. 

0  Good.  Well,  I  put  in  an  advertisement,  and  pretty 
soon  there  came  along  one  of  the  worst-looking  fellows 
I  ever  saw,  a  tramp  printer.  He  said  that  he  was  the 
very  man  for  the  place,  having  served  for  many  years 
as  amanuensis  to  Prentice.  I  didn't  like  his  looks,  of 
course,  but,  thinking  that  I  had  found  a  soiled  gern 


24  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

that  had  fallen  from  the  casket  of  a  poet,  I  securer 
him.  He  was  capable,  there's  no  doubt  about  that, 
but  the  rascal  got  drunk  and  wallowed  around  for  four 
days.  He  explained  that  he  was  getting  steam  up  in 
preparation  for  a  brilliant  run.  Finally  I  made  the 
boys  hitch  up  the  wagon  and  haul  him  off.  Then  there 
came  a  respectable-looking  fellow.  He  had  also  served 
Mr.  Prentice.  He  got  drunk  and  came  near  setting 
the  house  afire,  so  I  shipped  him.  Now,  suh,  I'm  glad 
that  you  have  never  worked  for  Prentice." 

He  had  made  the  julep  and  was  sipping  it.  Sud 
denly  he  leaned  to  one  side,  and,  glancing  through  a 
window,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Yonder  comes  that  trifling  and  no-account  Jack 
Gap.  Well,  suh,  I'll  warrant  you  that  Kentucky  has 
more  shiftless  fellows  than  any  State  in  the  Union.  All 
they  care  for  is  to  drink  licker  and  talk  about  women 
and  horses.  Come  in." 

Some  one  had  knocked  at  the  door.  My  irritating 
companion  —  the  can-kicking  lout  who  had  thrown  dust 
into  the  eyes  of  a  beautiful  morning — stepped  into  the 
room.  He  bowed  with  awkward  humility  to  the 
Colonel,  grinned  at  me,  and,  as  he  stood  wadding  his 
cotton  hat  between  his  dirt-begrimed  hands,  said  that  he 
thought  he  would  "  drap  over."  "  I  had  a  little  round 
in  town  last  night,  Colonel  —  this  genTman  yere  ken 
tell  you  all  about  it,  an* — " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it!  "  I  exclaimed.  "  All 
I  know  about  you  is  that  I  overtook  you  on  the  turn 
pike,  and  regretted  having  done  it." 

"  That's  all  right,  podner.     Yas,"  —  addressing  the 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  2  j 

Colonel,  — M  I  had  a  little  round  in  town  with  the  old 
Major  last  night,  an*  was  all  right  till  awhile  ago,  anf 
then  I  got  shaky;  so  I  lowed  that  ef  I  was  to  come 
over  yere  you  mout  give  me  a  mild  snort,  as  the  feller 
said  at  the  log-rollin',  to  brace  me  up  a  little." 

"  Jack  Gap,  I  wouldn't  give  you  a  drop  of  licker  to 
save  your  life.  You  are  a  disgrace  to  any  civilized 
community,  and  especially  so  to  your  family.  Go  on; 
you  can't  get  anything  to  drink  here." 

"  Didn't  want  much,"  Gap  continued,  still  wadding 
his  hat.  "  Jest  wanted  enough  to  brace  me  up  agin  that 
clover  sod." 

"  Not  a  drop!  "  the  Colonel  thundered. 

"  Wouldn'ter  been  sotrimbly  in  the  knees  ef  I  hadn'ter 
run  across  the  field  and  clim  up  on  the  fence  to  see  Lark 
Moss  an*  Pert  Sawyer  racin'  down  the  pike.  That 
little  bay  mar*  uv  Lark's  picks  herself  up  like  a  deer,  1 
tell  you.  When  he  traded  fur  her  I  thought  he  got  bit, 
but  he  didn't." 

"  Let's  see,"  the  Colonel  said,  musingly,  "  who  did 
he  trade  with?" 

"  Wy,  with  Boyd  Savely." 

"  That's  so.  Boyd's  not  as  careful  as  he  should  be 
But  which  horse  beat?  " 

"  W'y,  Lark's  clim  right  away. " 

"  Did,  eh?     How  far  did  they  run?  " 

"  Frum  beyant  the  mile  post  'way  up  to  tbc  eljutr 
tree." 

"  Hum.     And  Lark  beat  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  an*  I  woulder  been  all  right  ef  I  hadn'ter  run 
across  the  field  — — " 


26  *  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  There's  whisky  in  that  black  bottle/'  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  Thankee.*1 

He  poured  out  a  tumbler  nearly  full,  drank  down  the 
liquor  at  a  gulp,  wiped  his  mouth  on  his  hat  and  turned 
toward  the  door,  but  stopped  before  reaching  it,  and 
*hen  said : 

"  'Bout  as  putty  a  race  as  I  ever  seen,  but  ef  I 
hadn'ter  run  so  I  woulder  been  too  late.  Tires  a  man 
out  might'ly,  I  tell  you.  That's  good  lidcer." 

He  took  another  drink  and  stalked  out 

"  Now,"  said  the  Colonel, "  let  us  get  down  to  busi 
ness.  You  are,  I  see  by  your  recommendations,  a  son 
of  the  late  Jasper  Burwood,  of  North  Carolina.  Good 
family.  You  are  willing  to  undertake  the  great  task 
of  writing,  partly  from  my  dictation,  and  partly  with  your 
own  ingenuity,  a  history  of  Shellcut  County,  are  you?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  will  such  a  piece  of  work  be  worth  ? "  he 
asked. 

''  I  have  no  idea.  I  don't  know  how  large  a  book  it 
may  make. " 

"  Hum.  Tell  you  what  I  think  will  be  the  best : 
You  may  draw,  as  we  go  along,  what  money  you  need 
—  provided  it's  not  too  much  —  and  then,  when  the 
work  is  finished,  we  can  decide  upon  what  it  is  worth. 
Satisfactory  ?  " 

11  Perfectly,"  I  answered.  Indeed,  almost  any 
arrangement  would  have  been  satisfactory  to  me. 

A  dog  barked,  a  horse  neighed,  and  sounds  of  voice* 
came  from  without. 


^  KENTUCKY  COLQNBl*  gjy 

"The  folks  are  coming,"  said  the  Colonel  "  Oi 
course,  they  do  not  know  but  that  I  have  been  expect* 
ing  you  for  several  days,  and  that  I  have  had  cor 
respondence  with  you.  Women  folks,  you  know,  are 
peculiar  —  devilish  peculiar  at  times." 

I  did  not  at  that  time  catch  the  full  meaning  of  his 
precaution,  but  afterward  I  saw  that  the  "  women 
folks  "  were  disposed  to  make  sport  of  the  old  gentle 
man's  easily  gulled  simplicity. 

There  were  noises  in  the  hallway,  rapid  talking  and 
hastening  footsteps,  but  above  all  I  caught  the  entranc 
ing  music  of  a  joyous  laugh.  A  few  moments  later, 
and  I  was  sitting  in  the  family  circle. 

Let  me  recall  the  scene  —  let  me  bring  back  witl 
the  eye  of  recollection  the  faces  and  forms  of  that 
household.  There  was  Mrs.  Osbury,  the  Colonel's 
wife.  I  know  that  the  expression  is  shop-worn,  that 
it  is  fading  and  that  its  edges  are  frayed,  but  I  must 
say  that  she  was  motherly.  Blue-eyed  and  pale,  yet 
vigorous,  she  impressed  me  with  her  air  of  gentle 
solicitude,  a  solicitude  without  the  blighting  shadow 
of  hypocrisy;  an  earnest  inquiry  after  the  health  of 
persons  whom  she  met,  a  real  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
other  people.  Yet  there  was  about  her  a  quiet  and 
charming  mischief — not  a  mischief,  perhaps,  but  a 
years-ago  liveliness  that  had  been  softened  into  a  love 
of  sad  fun. 

I  now  see,  as  it  conies  up  before  me,  the  face  of  old 
Buck  Hineman.  He  was  the  brother  of  Mrs.  Osbury, 
and  was  an  old  fellow  with  gray  whiskers  and  a 
reserved  air;  a  stout  old  man  with  an  expression  of 


28  ^  KENTUCKY  COLON&U 

disappointment,  but,  withal,  that  sudden  leaning 
toward  a  confidential  outburst  so  often  met  with 
among  men  who  have  become  determined  to  be 
reserved  —  a  talkativeness  which  means  to  produce  the 
effect  of  a  profound  silence.  Who  next?  Yes,  a 
young  fellow,  a  twenty-year-old  boy  with  a  fresh  face 
and  delighted  eyes.  I  say  delighted  eyes  because  it 
seemed  that  everything  delighted  that  boy.  Every 
thing  amused  him.  He  broke  out  in  genuine  laughter 
over  anecdotes  which  I  should  have  sneered  at;  and 
even  in  his  noisiness  there  was  a  spontaneity  of  good 
feeling  that  would  have  been  ill-timed  among  men 
who  had  seen  anything  of  life. 

Now  there  comes  a  creature  of  whom  I  must  speak 
with  caution.  Why?  Because  I  do  not  wish  to  set 
myself  down,  at  the  very  opening  of  a  recital,  as  a 
weak-minded  fool.  Luzelle.  What  a  name!  I  can 
not —  rather,  I  will  not  —  undertake  to  describe  that 
girl.  Oh,  what  eyes,  and  —  I  was  a  fool,  I  do  not  deny 
that.  What  a  mouth!  She  was  not  tall,  but  there  was 
a  condensed  grace  about  her.  She  was  not  beautiful, 
but  there  was  a  thrill  in  her  movements.  Not  beauti 
ful?  Yes,  but  there  was  something  more  than  beauty. 
When  she  looked  at  me,  I  trembled;  when  she  spoke 
to  me,  which  she  did  occasionally  during  that  evening, 
I  actually  shook,  so  powerful  an  influence  had  she  upon 
me.  I  called  myself  a  fool,  and  tittered  to  myself  as 
a  simpleton.  I  denounced  myself  as  a  dunce,  but  felt 
an  intellectual  quickening  in  contemplation  of  her 
beauty.  Yet  she  was  not  beautiful,  and  I  knew  it;  but, 
scorning  beauty,  she  surpassed  it.  She  did  not  like 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  2g 

me  —  I  saw  that.  Did  she  take  stock  of  her  unculti 
vated  grace  and  laugh  at  me  because  I  could  not  help 
but  gaze  upon  her  with  a  yearning  eye?  "No,  she  did 
not  like  me,  for  she  found  no  interest  in  what  I  said. 
Once  she  snapped  me  up  with  a  keen  witticism,  and, 
in  trying  to  reply,  I  made  myself  a  dunce.  Then  she 
laughed,  and  even  the  old  Colonel,  who  had  shown  him 
self  to  be  so  courteous  a  host,  chuckled  with  a  prideful 
titter  and  changed  the  subject.  Never  before  had  I 
acknowledged  myself  a  hopeless  fool.  I  tried  to  reason 
with  myself.  I  tried  to  recall  the  many  times  I  had 
met  brilliant  women,  but  my  efforts  fell  as  dry  as  sticks 
in  a  luminous  shower. 

Bed-time  came.  A  fool  went  up  the  stairs.  I  know 
that  he  was  a  fool.  He  could  have  been  nothing  else. 
In  a  room  of  reproachful  comfort — I  thought  it  was 
reproachful  because  I  found  so  much  bodily  ease  and 
so  much  mental  disquiet  —  I  lay  thinking  of  that  face. 
This  is  neither  the  record  of  a  wise  man  nor  the  effort 
of  a  literary  aspirant,  so  I  may  be  excused  for  an 
expression  of  foolishness.  I  lay  there  —  quite  a  nat 
ural  performance — thinking  of  what  might  befall  me. 
Should  I  fall  in  love  with  that  girl  — why  mention  a 
thing  so  palpable?  Why,  hang  it,  I  was  already  in  love 
with  her.  To  what  extent?  To  the  extent  that  I  was 
a  fool;  that's  all. 

Why  do  I  recall  these  details?  That  I  wish  to  make 
this  simple  statement  what  it  should  not  be,  a  sensa 
tional  recital?  No,  I  am  far  from  that.  I  do  not 
know  why  I  have  made  this  statement  —  in  fact,  I  do 
not  know  anything.  I  do  not  know  why  I  thought  of 


^o  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

many  things  —  of  that  Louisville  detective,  especially. 
What  a  mark  that  fellow  was  destined  to  make  on  my 
life!  Do  I  wish  now  that  I  had  not  met  him?  Per 
haps  the  fever  of  recollection  has  too  much  of  an 
influence  upon  what  should  be  a  quiet  recital. 

I  lay  looking  at  the  moon  that  gazed  through  the 
window.  I  thought  of  the  change  that  had  recently 
come  unto  me  — of  many  faces  that  I  had  seen  —  of  one 
face,  in  particular.  Yes,  of  a  thrilling  particular.  "  I 
will  cease  to  think,"  said  I,  as  I  pulled  up  the  covers 
that  night.  "I  wonder  if  that  girl  —  but  I  will  not 
wonder.  I  will  compose  myself  to  sleep.  I  will  not 
be  a  fool."  Yet  I  could  not  help  but  think,  "  Shall  I 
influence  that  girl?"  I  was  a  romancer,  remember — 
a  romancer  to  the  extent  that  I  thought  a  certain  fate 
lay  in  every  smile.  I  am  a  wiser  man  now.  But  what 
has  this  to  dv^with  my  experience  in  this  neighborhood? 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    YOUNG    MAN'S   SECRET. 

FROM  a  sleep  of  wearisome  dreaming  I  awoke  with 
a  start.  What  a  field  of  unsatisfactory  labor  do  we 
find  in  dreamland.  What  feverish  energy  do  we  waste 
in  following  a  road  that  suddenly  fades  away;  what 
serious  undertakings,  pushed  to  the  very  verge  of 
accomplishment,  suddenly  spring  aside  into  the  ridicu 
lous.  A  dying  old  man,  to  whom  we  are  handing  a  cup 
of  water,  jumps  out  of  bed  and  dances  a  grotesque  jig, 
while  an  overworked  horse,  that  we  pitied,  climbs  upon 
a  fence,  strikes  a  match  and  contentedly  smokes  a  pipe. 
I  clutched  at  a  thousand  ragged  and  flapping  ends  of 
dreams  that  night,  hoping  to  bind  them  into  a  bundle 
of  consistency,  but,  eluding  me,  they  continued  to  flap 
and  flutter  in  a  chilling  wind  of  incongruity. 

"  Luzelle,"  I  said,  aloud,  and  then,  startled  at  the 
sound  of  the  name,  raised  up  and  looked  about  the 
room.  "  I  will  go  down  that  stairway  a  more  sensible 
man  than  I  was  when  I  came  up,"  I  mused.  "  I  per 
mitted  myself  to  be  taken  by  surprise.  I  suffered  my 
eyes  to  be  dazzled  by  the  glaring  light  of  a  smile. " 

I  tried  to  arouse  my  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  but  it 
was  drowsy,  and  sprang  not  up  at  the  shaking  I  gave 
it.  I  tried  the  self-cajolery  of  inherited  pride,  but 
found  myself  repeating  the  name  of  a  girl  who  at  that 


32  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

time  was,  no  doubt,  serenely  buried  amo.xg  the  roses 
of  a  morning  nap.  Foolish  thought?  Oh,  yes,  I 
know  it  now.  Indeed,  a  few  minutes  ago,  while  look 
ing  over  the  manuscript  of  this  wayward  history,  I 
was  tempted  to  change  the  latter  part  of  the  preced^ 
ing  chapter,  but  then  I  remembered  that  the  mere 
writing  of  it  brought  back  to  me  the  feelings  of  that 
night,  brought  back  the  night  itself.  The  mused-over 
recollection  of  a  scene  through  which  we  have  passed 
makes  us  smile,  or  tremble,  or  blush,  for  parts  of  our 
lives  are  lived  and  lived  again.  So,  desiring  to  be 
truthful,  even  at  the  expense  of  appearing  ridiculous 
to  the  cool-eyed,  I  decided  to  let  the  sentences  remain 
as  written  when  the  feeling  of  retrospection  was  strong 
upon  me  —  decided  to  give  no  after  touch  of  reason 
and  no  taming  tone  of  thought. 

Just  as  I  had  finished  dressing,  some  one  tapped 
on  the  door,  at  the  same  time  asking  if  I  were  up. 

"  Come  in,"  I  answered,  recognizing  the  voice  of 
young  Osbury.  He  came  in,  smiling. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  disturb  you,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
didn't  know  but  you  might  like  to  go  and  look  at  my 
colt  before  breakfast.  I  never  rode  him  but  once,  and 
he  ain't  bridle-wise  yet." 

I  thought,  "  Hang  the  colt!"  but  as  I  was  capable 
of  lying^  even  though  it  brought  inconvenience  upon 
myself,^  replied  that  I  should  be  delighted  to  see  the 
animal.  At  this  his  face  brightened,  and  in  his 
manner  there  was  instantly  shown  a  sort  of  affectionate 
leaning  toward  me.  I  knew  then  that  his  friendship 
could  be  won  or  repelled  in  a  moment.  He  went  to 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  33 

the  bureau,  tapped  the  marble  sJab  with  a  comb,  took 
iip  a  match,  struck  it,  blew  out  the  blaze,  and  then, 
;vith  rather  an  embarrassed  air,  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"  If  I  show  you  something,  will  you  say  anything 
about  it?" 

"  Not  if  you  want  it  kept  as  a  secret." 

"  Won't  say  a  word  about  it  to  pa  or  Uncle  Buck?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"  But  you  might  tell  Luzelle." 

"Nc,  I  won't." 

"  She's  got  a  way  of  making  folks  tell  things." 

"  Your  secret  shall  be  jafe  with  me." 

"  Wait,  then,  till  I  come  back." 

He  hastened  out  of  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with 
A  photograph.  I  reached  out  my  hand  to  take  it,  but 
hv  held  it  a  moment  longer,  and  even  looked  about  to 
s«e  if  any  one  had  entered  the  room  during  his  minute's 
absence.  When  I  took  the  picture  he  blushed.  I 
looked  at  the  card  and  saw  the  face  of  rather  a  hand 
some  woman,  apparently  twenty-five  years  of  age. 

"  Who  is  she?"  I  asked. 

"  Now,  you  won't  tell  anybody?" 

"Nobody." 

"  Her  name  is  Ella  Mayhew.  None  of  the  folks  </rer 
*aw  her;  don't  know  that  there  is  such  a  girl.  She 
teaches  school  about  fifteen  miles  from  here.  I  *}*,  *' 
he  proudly  added,  taking  the  photograph,  "  You  S6' 
she  has  written  on  this  side:  'For  Fred  only.'  If  the 
folks  knew  anything  about  it  they  would  give  me  a 
going-over,  because  they'd  think  she's  too  oW  for  me» 
but  she  ain't.  Do  you  think  so?" 

a 


34 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  She  doesn't  seem  to  be,"  I  replied,  wondering 
when  I  should  have  a  chance  to  tell  a  truth. 

His  eyes  glowed  with  grateful  delight,  and,  grasping 
my  arm,  he  said:  "  I  am  glad  you  came  here.  I  liked 
you  as  soon  as  I  saw  you.  They  talk  to  me  "  —  nodding 
Hshead  toward  the  door —  "  about  going  to  college,  and 
all  that,  but  I'll  tell  you  what's  a  fact:  it  wouldn't  be 
any  use  for  me  to  go  to  school  now.  Why,  I  tell  you 
what,  I  take  up  a  book  sometimes  and  read  page  after 
page,  and  then  look  away,  and  don't  know  a  thing 
that  I've  read.  You  see,  there  ain't  no  use  in  a  feller 
fooling  away  his  time  when  he's  in  that  sort  of  a  fix." 

"  You  can  read  poetry,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  I  can't,"  he  answered.  "  Can't  do  that,  even. 
It's  too  slow.  Feller  tries  to  tell  me  what  he  feels 
when  I  know  a  deuced  sight  better  than  he  does.  I 
don't  even  care  to  look  at  flowers.  All  I  want  is  to  sit 
down  by  her  and  let  her  sing  to  my  soul." 

"  Does  she  sing?"  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"  Oh,  not  what  folks  would  call  singing.  She  is  a 
song  herself.  Why,  it  seems  like  every  time  she 
speaks  she  sings,  and  every  time  she  moves  her  hand 
she  touches  a  guitar.  Well,  now,  let's  go  down  and 
look  at  the  colt.  I  didn't  think  it  would  be  treating  her 
right  to  show  you  the  colt  first.  Wait  in  the  hall  till  I 
lock  this  picture  up." 

We  went  to  the  stable  and  looked  at  the  colt.  Fred 
asked  me,  as  he  lifted  up  one  of  the  colt's  feet,  what  I 
thought  of  his  general  points.  I  saw  no  points  at  all, 
but  I  told  him  that  they  were  excellent,  whereupon  he 
praised  my  judgment,  and  promised,  as  a  reward  for 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  35 

my  good  sense,  that  I  might,  at  some  future  time,  ride 
the  petted  animaL 

When  we  returned  to  the  house  we  found  old  Bucl^ 
Hineman  walking  in  the  yard.  He  was  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  so  pleasant  was  the  morning,  and  walked  with 
his  hands  held  behind  him.  He  looked  the  very  pict 
ure  of  meditative  reserve,  but  I  soon  discovered  that 
he  was  ever  ready  to  crack  the  shell 'of  his  silence,  and 
that  one  of  his  social  aims  was  directed  toward  the 
discovery  of  an  opportunity  to  say  something. 

The  breakfast  bell  rang.  The  Colonel  met  me  at 
the  dining-room  door  and  greeted  me  heartily.  When 
we  sat  down  to  the  table,  Luzelle  was  missing,  but  just 
as  I  had  begun  to  speculate  on  her  absence,  and  while 
I  was  doubtless  returning  absurd  answers  to  sensible 
questions,  she  glided  gracefully  into  the  room.  She 
sat  opposite  me,  and  was  no  more  embarrassed  by  my 
presence  than  if  I  had  been  a  hundred  miles  away.  I 
gradually  mastered  my  agitation  insomuch  that  I  was 
enabled  to  make  a  more  rational  estimate  of  her 
appearance  and  presumable  character.  Her  hair  was 
a  mass  of  black  ringlets,  of  ringlets  so  well  defined 
that  not  a  straggling  strand  of  hair  was  visible.  Her 
face  was  a  graceful  oval,  and  yet  there  were  lines  of 
character  about  it.  I  could  not  determine  where,  yet 
I  knew  that  they  existed. 

"  Mr.  Burwood,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  after  breakfast 
we'll  ride  over  the  farm.  I  hold  that  a  man,  in  order 
to  write,  must  know  something  about  his  surround 
ings.  Don't  you  want  to  go,  daughter?" 

"  No,  suh,"  she  answered, 


36  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Got  anything  else  to  do?"  he  asked. 

w  No,  suh,  but  I  just  don't  feel  like  going." 

"  Girls  don't  feel  like  doing  anything  these  days," 
old  Buck  spoke  up.  "  There  was  a  time  in  Kentucky 
when  a  girl  could  weave  cloth  and  kiver  corn  at 
plantin'  time,  if  needs  be,  but  now  things  are  changed. " 

"  Yes,"  said  Luzelle,  "  there  was  a  time  when  girls 
In  Kentucky  were  clodhoppers." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  about  that,"  old  Buck  replied. 
"  Thar  was  just  as  good-lookin'  girls  in  Kentucky  thirty 
odd  years  ago  as  thar  is  now.  Don't  fret  about  the  clod 
hoppers." 

"  I'm  not  fretting,"  said  the  girl.  "  You  are  the  one 
that's  doing  the  fretting,  Uncle  Buck." 

"  Well,  well,"  remarked  the  Colonel,  "  let  it  all  go 
—  let  it  all  go.  Good  girls  then,  good  girls  now.  That 
settles  it. " 

"  Mr.  Burwood,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  slyly  looking  at 
her  daughter,  "  were  you  acquainted  with  George  D. 
Prentice?" 

"  No,  I  was  not,"  I  answered. 

The  Colonel  took  a  noisy  swallow  of  coffee. 

"  I  am  told,"  Mrs.  Osbury  continued,  "  that  at  differ 
ent  times  he  employed  quite  a  number  of  men  to  do  his 
writing  for  him." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  so,"  I  assented. 

The  Colonel  dropped  his  knife  with  a  noisy  clang. 

"And  some  of  them,  I  understand,"  said  Luzelle, 
*  were  extremely  bright  fellows,  but  given  to  drink. 
I  think  that  I  saw  somewhere  that  one  of  them  had 
to  be  hauled  about  in  a  wagon." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  yj 

m  Now,  look  here,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  want  you 
to  let  that  drop.  Hang  it,  can't  a  man  make  a  trifling 
mistake  without  being  everlastingly  annoyed  by  it?" 

"  Remington,"  said  old  Buck,  "  I  think  you've  got 
some  mighty  stupid  books  in  your  library.  I  took  one 
down  this  morning,  but  couldn't  get  the  hang  of  it, 
Wrote  by  a  feller  named  George  Eliot.  Called  *  Theo- 
phrastus  Sich/  I  think." 

"  * Theophrastus  Such/  you  mean,  don't  you?' 
Luzelle  asked,  looking  up  with  a  smile  of  mischief. 

"  Oh,  well,"  old  Buck  snorted,  blushing  at  the 
same  time,  "  if  you  want  to  call  it  'Such/  you  can  d* 
so.  When  I  was  a  boy  and  folks  was  honest,  'sich 
was  good  enough  for  people  that  didn't  I  ave  to  borry 
from  the  neighbors  every  time  they  wanted  to  get  a 
bite  to  eat;  but  now  that  everything  is  gittin*  to  be 
Yankeefied,  we  have  to  twist  up  our  mouths  and  say 
'Such/"  Here  old  Buck  stuck  out  his  mouth.  "  Ah, 
Lord,  these  times,  these  times!  I've  heard  old  Tom 
Marshall  say  *  sich/  but" — 'nodding  his  head  at  Luzelle 
—  "  this  was  before  everything  was  Yankeefied." 

After  breakfast,  while  the  Colonel  and  I  were  waiting 
for  the  horses  to  be  brought  around,  old  Buck  took  » 
seat  on  the  gallery  and  began  to  blow  a  long  yellow 
flute.  His  playing,  I  soon  noticed,  had  not  the  trem 
ulous  tenderness  of  the  melancholy  notes  blown  by 
Copperfield's  poverty-depressed  tutor;  indeed,  I  do  not 
think  that  old  Buck  could  have  successfully  competed 
with  Midas  of  Acragas. 

Luzelle  ran  up-stairr,,  Fred  disappeared,  and  the 
Colonel,  turning  to  me,  said  in  an  undertone: 


38  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 

"  Buck  drives  everybody  off  the  place  with  that  d — d 
flute.  I  trod  on  it  once,  and  thought  I'd  mashed  it  all 
to  pieces,  but  he  stuck  it  up  with  shoemaker's  wax, 
and  the  next  morning  blew  his  brains  out,  as  usual. 
He'll  sit  there  now  till  the  sun  strikes  him;  then  he'll 
move  about  three  feet  down  the  gallery.  Then  he'll 
play  till  the  sun  strikes  him  again,  and  then  he'll  move. 
In  the  summer  he  follows  the  shade  all  around  the 
house.  Come,  here  are  the  horses." 

We  passed  through  a  large  gate,  held  open  by  a 
negro  boy,  and  thence  down  into  the  woods,  still  cool 
with  dew.  Here  and  there  a  yellowish  patch  of  May- 
apple  stalks  lifted  their  broad  leaves,  affording  shade 
for  the  toad  and  the  high-land  terrapin.  The  black 
berry  briars  were  shedding  their  white  caps,  and  the 
red-bud  tree,  in  full  bloom,  blazed  against  the  hillside. 
The  woodpecker  was  shrieking  at  the  top  of  his  shrill 
voice,  and  a  frisky  yellowhammer  flirted  with  his  image 
in  the  spring-branch.  A  snake,  sunning  himself  on  a 
log,  licked  out  his  tongue,  then,  tumbling  off,  hurried 
noisily  away  through  last  year's  leaves.  The  rain-crow 
cried,  though  he  had  no  need  to,  for  everything  was 
<resh;  and  the  squirrel,  with  a  hickory  bud  in  his  mouth, 
;an  along  the  path  as  though  thrilled  with  his  adventure, 
and  then,  scampering  up  a  tree,  threw  a  piece  of  bark 
at  us  as  we  passed  under  him.  We  went  through. 
another  gate,  and  rode  into  the  field,  where  the  men 
were  planting  corn.  A  negro  boy,  with  nothing  on 
but  a  shirt,  sat  under  the  alders  in  a  fence  corner,  play 
ing  with  a  lazy  dog  that  slowly  beat  the  ground  with 
his  tail,  Numerous  blackbirds  flew  about  in  seeming 


A  K&NTUCKV 

J7 

confusion,  but  each  one  had  his  eye  on  the  sack  of  seed 
corn  setting  "  squushed"  down  in  the  turn-row. 

In  the  damp  places,  where  the  soil  had  broken  up 
cloddy,  negro  women  were  covering  corn  \vith  hoes, 
alternately  singing  and  almost  profanely  condemning 
the  boys  for  not  having  dropped  the  corn  in  the 
"  check."  As  we  rode  along  we  carne  upon  a  negro 
sitting  under  a  persimmon  tree.  Huhat,  half-covered 
with  an  old  red  handkerchief,  lay  on  the  ground.  He 
arose  when  he  saw  us,  and,  brushing  the  dirt  from  the 
seat  of  his  jeans  trousers,  said: 

"  W'y,  good  mawnin',  Col'n,  good  mawttin',  sah, 
Lookin*  mighty  well  dis  mawnin'  an'  dat  udtfer  gene*  * 
man  is,  too." 

"  Isom,"  said  the  Colonel,  bedding  &.  &d?ere  glance 
upon  the  fellow,  "  what  are  you  doing  here  in  the 
shade  ?  Why  ain't  you  at  work  ?  " 

"  Sick  dis  mawnin',  sah.'* 

M  Nonsense,  you  are  as  healthy  a*  a  steer.  You 
can't  expect  me  to  keep  you  when  you  lie  around  this 
way.  What's  the  matter  with  you?  " 

"  Wall,  sah,  de  truth  is,  I  we/it  ober  ter  Steve's  sil 
ver  weddin' las' night,  an* " 

"  Why,  Steve  hasn't  been  marned  more  than  a  year/ 
the  Colonel  broke  in. 

"I  know  dat,  sah.** 

*  How,  then,  could  he  have  a  silver  wedding?  " 

*  Dat  wuz  his  erfair,  sah;  I  didn*  git  it  up  nur  man 
age  it.     I  went  ober  dar,  I  did,  an1  he  fotch  out  some 
atuff  dat  he  called  prune  braady,     I  drinked  it  putty 

I  did,  &&*,  JU&w*  er  massy,,  how  I  did  feel  dit 


*  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

an*  Fs  sick  ez  er  boss  dis  minit.  I  looks  at 
er  thing  er  minit,  an'  den  says,  '  Ahah,'  an*  hatter  turn 
away.  I  knows  whar  dar's  er  nigger  dat's  got  some 
stuff  dat  would  brace  me  up,  an*  ef  I  jes'  had  er  quarter 
f'd  get  some,  an*  den  I'd  make  dis  yere  dirt  fly  like  er 
harrycane  gwine  ober  it." 

"  You  trifling  rascal,  do  you  expect  me  to  give  you 
money  when  you  do  everything  you  can  against  my 
political  interest?" 

"  I  didn'  know  dat  I'd  done  nothin'  ergin  you,  sah; 
To'deLawdldidn'." 

"  Didn't  you  and  your  gang  vote  against  Evans  for 
sheriff  when  you  knew  full  well  that  I  wanted  him 
elected?" 

"  He  wuz  lected,  sah. " 

"  Yes,  but  not  by  your  assistance.  ** 

"  Wall,  now,  lemme  tell  you;  we  didn' vote  ergin  him 
so  mighty  hard.  S'l,  'Boys,  vote  ergin  dis  white  man 
saft  an'  easy  —  saft  an'  easy,  boys,  'caze  Col'n  Osbury 
want  him  'lected/  an'  den  de  boys  da  voted  easy,  an' 
ef  da  hadn't,  sah,  he  woulder  been  beat,  sho.  Mighty 
anxious  ter  git  dis  piece  planted  To  it  rains,  an*  if  I 
jes  had  er  quarter—  " 

"Here,"  said  the  Colonel,  tossing  him  a  twenty-five* 
cent  piece. 

"  Thankee,  sah.     Dirt  gwine  ter  fly  now." 

A  negro  boy  took  down  a  pair  of  draw-bars,  and 
we  passed  into  a  clover  field,  where  fat  cows  and  frisky 
steers  were  feeding.  The  view,  from  a  gently  rising 
hill,  made  my  pulse  quicken  with  a  quiet  delight.  Na 
ture's  poem  — a  sun-illuminated  manuscript.  Yonder 


- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  41 

a  gentle  slope  where  the  meter  was  smooth  and  easy- 
flowing  in  a  love  scene;  farther  away,  where  a  spur  of 
the  ridge  came  down,  there  arose,  it  seemed,  the 
rugged  lines  of  tragedy. 

We  passed  along  a  fence  near  which  Jack  Gap  was 
plowing,  or  rather  where  his  team  stood,  lashing  at  the 
flies. 

"  I  wonder  where  that  trifling  rascal  is  ?  "  said  the 
Colonel.  "  I'll  be  blamed  if  it  isn't  like  pulling  eye- 
teeth  with  a  sore  thumb  and  a  mashed  forefinger  to  get 
anything  done.  Yonder  he  comes." 

Gap  climbed  a  fence,  bordering  the  woods,  and 
came  toward  us,  increasing  his  gait  as  he  ap 
proached.  When  he  came  up  to  the  fence  where  we 
had  halted,  he  was  panting  as  though  he  had  been 
running  a  race. 

"  Been  asleep,  Gap?"  the  Colonel  asked. 

"  Asleep!  "  he  repeated  with  emphasis,  removing  his 
hat  and  raking  the  perspiration  from  his  brow.  "  No, 
I  hain't.  The  dogs  treed  something  over  thar  in  the 
woods  jest  now,  an*  I  'lowed  that  it  mout  be  some  sort 
uv  a  varmint  that  ought  to  be  killed,  so  I  went  over." 

"  What  was  it?  " 

"  I  couldn't  find  out.  Well,  you  gentlemen  must 
excuse  me.  I've  got  ter  work." 

We  passed  out  upon  the  turnpike,  and  as  we  slowly 
rode  along,  the  Colonel  began  to  tell  something  of 
himself  and  of  his  family. 

"  You  were  a  colonel  in  the  army,  were  you  not?  " 
I  asked. 

"Yes.  in  the    Confederate  army.    I  was  a  hot? 


42  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

headed  secessionist,  but  there  is  one  thing  that  I  am 
proud  of — in  fact,  I  don't  know  but  that  I  was  proud 
of  it  all  along  —  and  that  is  the  fact  that  old  Kentucky 
did  not  go  out  of  the  Union.  Thank  God  it  is  all 
over  now  and  settled  as  it  was." 

"  Was  Mr.  Hineman  in  the  army?" 

"  Well,  no,  I  can't  say  that  Buck  was.  He  made 
a  number  of  secession  speeches,  such  as  they  were, 
and  declared,  I  remember,  that  he  would  die  for  the 
cause,  but  — well,  he  didn't  die.  He  had  an  idea 
years  ago  that  he  was  an  actor,  and,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  don't  think  he  has  given  it  up  yet.  He  belonged 
to  a  sort  of  tenth-rate  company  once,  and  afterward 
tried  to  organize  a  company  of  his  own.  I  told  him 
one  day  that  I  didn't  think  he  could  ever  learn  to  play 
'  Hamlet,'  and,  suh,  he  got  mad  and  wouldn't  eat  at 
the  table  with  me  for  more  than  a  week.  He  has  had 
trouble,  Buck  has.  He  lived  in  Indiana  for  a  time, 
and  while  there  —  only  two  years  ago,  I  believe  —  fell 
in  love  with  a  handsome  young  woman.  She  con 
sented  to  marry  him,  either  returning  his  affection  or 
believing  that  he  was  wealthy,  but,  just  as  the  ceremony 
was  about  to  be  performed,  the  sheriff  of  the  county 
stepped  in  and  arrested  her  on  a  charge  of  stealing 
a  horse." 

"What!  "I  exclaimed. 

"  On  a  charge,  suh,  of  stealing  a  horse.  Buck 
hadn't  known  her  very  long;,  she  having  recently  en 
gaged  board  at  the  house  where  he  was  staying.  Then 
he  hurried  back  to  Kentucky,  and  since  that  time  has 
mainly  devoted  himself  to  his  appetite  and  his  /lute." 


X  K&KTUCKY  COLONEL.  ^ 

£  wondered  if  he  would  say  anything  about  Luzelle. 

'"  I  have  another  son,"  the  Colonel  continued  after 
a  few  moments'  silence.  "  Henry  is  his  name.  He 
lives  ia  Ernryville  and  pretends  to  be  in  the  real  estate 
business,  but  he  isn't  doing  anything.  In  fact,  he 
doesn't  seem  to  care  to.  Always  was  a  peculiar  boy, 
full  of  odd  fancies,  and  with  a  feverish  love  for  old 
books. " 

"  You  have  —  have  but  one  daughter,"  I  inquiringly 
remarked,  and  then,  fearful  that  he  might  catch  sight 
of  my  face,  which  I  felt  had  grown  blood-red,  I 
turned  away  as  though  looking  at  something  far  off  in 
the  blue  distance. 

"  That's  all,"  he  replied.  "  I  wanted  to  call  her 
Susan,  after  my  sister,  but  Mrs  Osbury,  having  seen 
the  name  Luzelle  somewhere  — in  some  foolish  book, 
doubtless  —  would  not  hear  to  Susan,  but  insisted 
upon  Luzelie.  I  had  to  give  in,  but  after  all  it  doesn't 
tiake  any  difference.  Luzelle  is  a  strange  child,  in 
pme  things.  I  sent  her  to  Europe  last  year,  as  it  is 
jtiite  the  thing  for  a  Blue-grass  girl  these  days,  but  she 
rarely  speaks  of  her  trip." 

"  Better  that  than  to  be  always  making  disparag 
ing  comparisons  with  regard  to  her  own  country,"  I 
remarked, 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  so.  I  didn't  know  but  she  would 
come  back  despising  Kentucky,  but  our  hills  and  fields 
seem  to  be  just  as  fresh  as  ever  to  her.  She  went  with 
a  distant  relative  of  mine  who  took  over  a  number  of 
young  ladies,  and,  of  course,  enjoyed  herself.  I 
Fred  to  go,  but  he  doesn't  care  to  do  anything. " 


44  A  KENTUCKY  COLOXEJL 

We  passed  Jack  Gap's  cabin.  The  pale  child  was 
playing  in  the  yard,  marking  on  the  ground  with  a 
stick. 

When  we  had  gone  through  the  big  gate,  opening 
out  on  the  turnpike,  and  were  approaching  the  ho'ise, 
the  hollow  wailings  of  old  Buck's  flute  were  borne  to 
us  on  a  breeze  that  brought  sweetness  from  the  lilacs 
in  the  garden. 

"  The  old  man  is  holding  an  extra  session  to-day," 
the  Colonel  remarked. 

"  He  appears  to  be  long-winded,"  I  answered. 

"  You  don't  know  him.  If  he  should  attempt  t$ 
chop  a  stick  of  wood  he'd  pant  like  an  excited  lizard, 
but  he  can  blow  that  old  flute  all  day." 

Ah!  Gorgon,  whose  dying  shrieks,  the  Grecians 
said,  suggested  the  invention  of  the  flute,  how  much 
better,  considering  the  abuses  of  thy  suggestion,  it 
would  be  hadst  thou  continued  to  live,  even  following 
thy  bent  of  turning  to  stone  the  curious  folk  that 
hazard  a  look  at  thee. 

"  Buck,  are  you  most  through  with  your  per 
formance?  "  said  the  Colonel  when  we  had  gone  upon 
the  gallery. 

"Oh,  Iftwiquit." 

"  You  can,  eh?     I  didn't  know  that.** 

The  old  fellow  put  his  flute  up  on  a  shelf,  and, 
holding  his  hands  behind  him,  strode  down  into  the 
yard,  casting  occasional  glances  at  the  sun,  to  form  an 
idea  as  to  the  nearness  of  the  dinner  hour. 

After  dinner,  the  Colonel,  old  Buck  and  I  sat  in 
the  library  and  smoked.  I  heard  Luzelle  singing  io 


4  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 


45 


the  parlor;  then  she  played,  on  the  piano,  a  madly- 
tangled  tune,  it  seemed  to  me;  and,  yielding  to  a 
sudden  fancy,  I  saw  a  horse,  harnessed  to  a  buggy, 
tearing  wildly  down  a  hill.  A  woman  in  the  buggy 
shrieked  and  shouted  for  help,  but  the  horse  dashed 
onward,  through  an  open  gate  and  under  a  tree  where 
children,  in  a  circle,  were  singing  a  May-day  song. 
The  woman  sprang  out,  and,  as  though  she  had  gone 
through  no  frightening  experience,  joined  the  circle  of 
children.  I  listened  eagerly  to  catch  the  words  of 
their  strange  song,  but  suddenly  they  vanished,  leaving 
an  ash-heap  under  the  tree.  Luzelle  had  ceased 
playing. 

After  awhile  the  Colonel  went  to  sleep  on  the 
leather-covered  sofa,  and  old  Buck — I  was  every 
minute  afraid  that  he  would  seize  his  flute  and  blow 
the  dying  wails  of  the  Gorgon  —  paced  up  and  down 
the  room.  In  spite  of  his  attempted  and  pretty  well 
carried  out  dignity,  there  was  something  comical 
about  his  pudginess.  He  had  but  a  fuzzy  sprinkle  of 
hair  on  his  head,  and  was,  withal,  so  far  from  being  of 
pleasing  form  and  features,  that  I  doubted  if  the 
young  woman  who  stole  the  horse  had  not  supposed 
him  to  be  wealthy,  instead  of  having  returned  his 
affection. 

"  I  like  good  music,"  he  said,  still  walking  up  and 
down  the  room,  "  but  you  don't  hear  much  of  it  in  this 
country.  Luzelle  can  play  after  a  fashion,  but  you 
ought  to  have  heard  a  girl  that  I  knew  in  Indiana. 
She  could  knock  the  socks  off  of  anything  I  ever  saw." 

"  Friend  of  yours?  "  I  asked. 


46  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Well,  hardly  a  friend.  Beautiful  girl  —  run  out  of 
Louisiana  by  the  yaller  fever.  I'll  tell  you  about  her 
some  time." 

I  saw  Luzelle  standing  out  at  the  yard  gate.  I  went 
out,  with  an  assumed  air  of  carelessness,  and  joined 
her,  or  rather  went  up  to  the  fence  near  the  gate.  She 
was  humming  a  tune. 

"  It  has  been  a  beautiful  day,"  I  remarked. 

She  lifted  her  chin  from  the  top  bar  of  the  gate,  shook 
back  her  ringlets,  and  replied: 

"  Yes,  rather." 

"  Your  father  tells  me  th<u  you  have  been  to 
Europe. " 

"  Yes, '"she  said,  looking  at  me  with  a  sort  of  pity 
ing  surprise.  "  It  was  not  a  difficult  feat.  " 

"  Did  you  enjoy  your  trip  ?" 

"  Partly. " 

I  saw  that  I  could  not  interest  her  on  the  subject  of 
Europe.  I  would  try  books,  the  rarely  failing  appeal 
to  the  good  graces  of  an  intelligent  woman. 

"  Do  you  read  much  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  very  much." 

"  You  like  novels,  of  course." 

"  Some  of  them." 

"Scenes  in  *  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,'"  I  said, 
"  were  brought  up  before  me  to-day  when  I  contem 
plated  a  meadow  and  a  hedge,  down  the  turnpike." 

M  I  prefer  American  novels,"  she  responded. 

"  You  like  Howells,  of  course,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  I  like  him,  but  still  I  quarrel  with  him.  His 
touch  is  delicate  and  delightful,  but,  instead  of  going 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


47 


to  the  East  and  touching  the  cold  and  unthrobbing 
Plymouth  Rock,  why  did  he  not  remain  in  the  West 
and  touch  the  warm  heart  of  emotion  ?  " 

This  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  shown  even  the 
slightest  feeling  in  response  to  any  remark  that  I  had 
addressed  to  her;  and,  catching  sight  of  her  face  anew, 
I  stood  dumb  in  rapt  admiration  of  her  perfect  loveli 
ness. 

Some  one  on  horseback  opened  the  big  gate  and 
jame,  in  an  easy  gallop,  toward  the  house.  As  he 
drew  near,  I  saw  a  gracefulness  and  ease  that  almost 
angered  me.  He  rode  up  to  the  gate,  and,  after 
making  a  pretense  of  striking  at  Luzelle  with  a  switch, 
dismounted,  tied  his  horse  and  came  into  the  yard. 

"  Mr.  Burwood,"  said  the  girl,  "  this  is  Mr.  Boyd 
Savely." 

We  shook  hands.  He  gracefully  dropped  into  a 
commonplace  conversation ;  I  awkwardly  stumbled 
into  it.  He  was  a  tall,  slender  young  fellow,  with 
rather  a  pale  face  and  with  large,  clear  gray  eyes.  He 
was  dressed  with  the  measured  negligence  of  that  semi- 
rakishness  so  often  seen  in  Kentucky,  and  wore  one 
leg  of  his  trousers  hanging  on  his  boot-top,  as  though, 
in  his  attention  to  other  matters,  he  had  forgotten  to 
pull  it  down.  His  clothes  were  gray,  and  his  broad 
brim  hat  was  white.  His  hair  was  long  and  inclined 
to  waviness,  and  as  we  stood  talking,  he  would,  every 
now  and  then,  take  off  his  hat  and  throw  back  his 
head  with  a  shake. 

"  I  was  expecting  you  this  evening,"  said  Luzelle. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  was  coming,  did  I?  " 


48  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  No,  but  I  thought  it  was  about  time." 

14  Where's  the  old  man?" 

"  Asleep,  I  suppose." 

"  Well,  let's  go  and  sit  down." 

She  and  Savely  turned  toward  the  house.  I  stood 
looking  after  them,  despising  the  fellow's  graceful 
swing.  After  ascending  the  steps,  just  before  en 
tering  the  front  door,  he  took  off  his  hat  and  threw 
back  his  head  with  a  shake. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PECULIAR   CHARACTERS. 

I  STOOD  at  the  gate,  madly  jealous  and  sick  at  heart, 
for  the  relationship  between  Luzelle  and  Boyd  Savely 
was  too  plain  to  be  mistaken.  Again  did  I  attempt  to 
reason  with  myself.  "Why  should  you  care?"  I 
almost  fiercely  demanded  of  myself.  "  You  are  a 
mere  acquaintance.  You  have  known  her  but  a  few 
hours.  If  you  have  no  more  strength  than  you  are 
now  commanding,  you  cannot,  in  this  life,  attain  any 
thing  that  approaches  success." 

The  house  had  lost  its  castle-like  pretensions.  It 
was  simply  a  large  brick  house,  with  stone  steps  at 
the  front  door  and  with  a  long  gallery  on  one  side. 
The  negro  cabins  at  one  end  of  the  yard  began  to, 
look  mean,  and  the  stables  had  become  so  unsightly 
that  I  wondered  why  they  had  not  been  pulled  down. 

I  went  into  the  woods,  and,  after  strolling  about 
aimlessly,  sat  down  on  a  log.  The  sun  had  set,  and, 
in  the  stillness  of  evening's  approach,  I  could  hear  the 
low  murmur  of  the  distant  creek.  Night  birds  vent 
ured  from  their  hiding-places  and  flew  away,  and  a 
screech-owl,  sitting  in  the  fork  of  a  dead  oak  tree, 
looked  down,  muffled  himself  and  uttered  his  tremu 
lous  and  chill-inspiring  cry.  The  stars  came  out, 
jewels  in  the  crown  of  her  majesty  the  Night,  and  the 

4  49 


£0  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

!Ightning-bugs,  in  hopeless  imitation,  glowed  where 
the  grass  was  damp.  I  thought  of  many  old  poems, 
of  many  silly  ones,  too,  but  even  in  my  soreness  I  did 
not  disregard  the  truth  that  one  of  the  greatest  of  all 
poems  —  night  in  the  woods  —  lay  about  me.  I  heard 
a  fox  bark,  and  then  I  heard  him  jumping.  The  sly 
rascal  was  making  a  false  trail  —  the  wily  politician 
was  disguising  his  record.  I  started  back  toward  the 
house.  Stealing  into  the  very  bosom  of  nature  had 
calmed  me. 

While  standing  for  a  moment  on  the  gallery,  I  heard 
Luzelle  talking  to  some  one  in  the  back  hallway. 

"  I  don't  know  why  he  didn't  come  to  supper,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  a  rare  case  when  a  man  misses  anything 
to  eat." 

0  'Deed  it  is,  honey. " 

Luzelle  was  talking  to  old  Aunt  Harriet,  the  cook. 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  a  man  who  didn't  regard 
his  appetite  with  tender  respect,"  Luzelle  continued. 

"  Cose  da  do,  honey;  cose  da  do,  but  we  oughtenter 
blame  'em  fur  dat,  caze  ever'body  like  ter  eat.  Does 
merse'f,  sometimes.  I  ain't  got  nuthin'  ergin  dat 
white  generman,  caze  I  doan  b'l'eve  he  hard  ter  cook 
fur,  nohow." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Luzelle  answered;  "  he  is  an  inoffensive 
sort  of  fellow. " 

"  He  ain't  er  bad-lookin'  pusson;  still,  I  ain't  settin* 
him  up  ergin  Mr.  Savely." 

1  would  have  gone  directly  to  my  room,  but  I  met 
the  Colonel  in  the  hallway. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Burwood,  where  have  you  been?     We 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  5  I 

looked  everywhere  for  you  at  supper-time.  Let's  go 
into  the  dining-room  and  see  if  we  can't  skirmish  up 
something  to  eat." 

"  No,  I  am  not  hungry,"  I  replied,  pausing  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairway. 

"  No  trouble  at  all,  I  assure  you.  Mary," —  Mrs. 
Osbury  had  come  out  of  the  parlor,  —  "here  is  Mr. 
Burwood,  and  he  declares  that  he  doesn't  want  any 
supper." 

"  Oh,  that  won't  do,  Mr.  Burwood,"  she  said,  with  a 
tone  of  persuasion  in  her  voice.  "  You  must  eat  some 
thing,  and  then  come  into  the  parlor,  for  we  have  visit 
ors.  I  don't  know  where  the  girl  is,  but  Luzelle  can 
wait  on  you." 

I  protested,  but  it  was  of  no  avail,  for,  at  the  bidding 
of  her  mother,  Luzelle  came.  She  did  not  appear  to 
be  pleased,  and  I  stammered  many  apologies,  but, 
with  true  Kentucky  hospitality,  she  laughed  at  my 
protests. 

Ma  likes  to  put  little  responsibilities  upon  me,"  she 
said,  when  we  had  entered  the  dining-room. 

"  But  she  should  not  have  called  you  away  from 
your  company." 

"  Oh,  they  are  only  home-folks.  Now,  let  me  see 
what  we  have.  Not  much  of  anything,  I  believe." 

What  the  deuce  did  I  care  whether  or  not  there  were 
a  morsel?  I  didn't  want  to  talk  about  anything  to  eat. 
I  wanted  to  talk  of  poetry.  I  wanted  to  say,  "  Stab 
me  with  this  carving-knife."  I  wanted  to  fall  on  the 
floor  and  tell  her  to  step  on  me.  I  —  well,  I  didn't 
to  eat,  but  I  made  an  ungraceful  pretense  of  eat- 


C|2  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

ing.  She  sat  with  her  arms  resting  on  the  table,  and, 
as  I  looked  at  them,  I  mused:  "Ah,  to  be  choked  to 
death  by  those  arms  would  be  an  euthanasia  that  a 
god  might  pray  for." 

"  I  have  been  down  into  the  woods,"  said  I. 

"  Have  you?"  she  asked,  without  interest  "  Which 
way?" 

"  Off  to  the  left  of  the  turnpike." 

"  Did  you  hear  a  bell?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered,  with  a  flush;  "  did  you  ring  for 
me  at  supper-time?  " 

"  Oh,  no;  my  little  cow  failed  to  come  up  this  even 
ing,  and  I  didn't  know  but  you  might  have  heard  her 
bell.  Pa  gave  her  to  me  when  she  was  a  calf,  and  I 
have  nursed  her  almost  ever  since.  Let  me  give  you 
some  more  coffee." 

"  No,  I  have  plenty,  I  thank  you.  The  woods  are 
beautiful  at  this  time  of  year.  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  taking  her  arms  off  the  table 
and  smoothing  back  her  hair. 

"  Full  of  poetry,"  I  remarked. 

"  Yes,  and  snakes,"  she  rejoined. 

I  wanted  to  butt  my  head  against  the  wall.  Was  it 
impossible  for  me  to  interest  her  ? 

"  Your  uncle  does  not  seem  to  think  that  the  young 
ladies  of  to-day  are  equal  to  those  of  years  ago." 

"  Uncle  Buck  cannot  realize  that  this  is  1884  instead 
of  1849.  He  remembers  his  keen  enjoyment  of  life 
when  he  was  young,  and,  not  knowing  that  much  of 
his  lack  of  pleasure  results  from  the  fact  that  he  is 
getting  old,  finds  fault  with  things  of  the  present.  Pa 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


53 


is  not  that  way.  There  is  none  of  the  old  fogy  about 
him." 

When  we  went  into  the  parlor  I  was  introduced  to 
Miss  Annie  Bumpus,  Captain  Joe  Jinny  and  Major 
£li  Hammonds.  Miss  Bumpus'  life  spanned  many 
wheat  harvests,  yet  she  affected  the  ways  of  a  kitten. 
To  her  everything  was  delightful,  or  magnificent,  or 
awful.  She  had  buttermilk  eyes  and  raveled-rope 
hair,  a  long  neck,  a  thin  chest  and  —  I  happened  to 
notice  —  long  and  shapeless  feet.  Contrary  to  what 
one  might  expect,  her  complexion  was  not  pale,  but 
was  of  an  uneven  reddish  brown,  and  was  subject  to 
many  variations.  She  was  unquestionably  in  love 
with  Joe  Jinny. 

Major  Eli  Hammonds  reminded  me  of  an  old  goat, 
and  so  strong  a  hold  did  this  fancy  take  upon  me  that 
I  should  not,  at  any  time,  have  been  surprised  had  he 
cried,  "  mick,  mick,"  and  then  rammed  his  head 
against  the  wall.  He  was  getting  along  in  years,  and 
his  whiskers  were  streaked  with  gray.  He  was  inclined 
to  be  nervous,  and  would  occasionally  shift  his  position 
with  a  sudden  jerk.  When  he  chewed  tobacco,  which 
he  did  almost  incessantly,  he  worked  his  jaws  like  a 
goat,  and  when  he  wanted  to  spit,  a  desire  which  came 
to  him  whenever  a  remark  was  addressed  to  him  or 
whenever  he  wanted  to  say  anything,  he  would  grasp 
his  whiskers  with  one  hand,  "  duck  "  his  head  about,  and 
then  spit  at  the  fire-place,  regardless  of  distance.  He 
was  from  Virginia,  was  proud  of  his  family,  and  was 
fondly  waiting,  I  soon  learned,  for  some  relatives  to  die 
and  leave  him  an  estate.  None  of  his  relatives  had 


CA  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

estates,  but  in  his  easily  encouraged  trustfulness  he 
believed  that  at  least  one  of  his  people  would  become 
rich  and  then  die  as  a  matter  of  duty.  He  lived  in  a 
rented  house  and  transcribed  deeds  in  the  county  clerk's 
office  in  Emryville. 

Captain  Jinny  had  been  a  private  in  the  Confederate 
army  and  had  lost  his  leg  at  the  battle  of  Manassas. 
He  had  been  compelled  to  submit  to  so  close  an  ampu 
tation  that  art  could  not,  in  the  way  of  wood  or  cork, 
come  to  his  assistance,  so  he  walked,  and  rather  grace 
fully  too,  with  one  crutch.  His  head  and  face  were 
large.  He  was  not  tall,  and  hated  the  idea  that  he  was 
gradually  increasing  in  flesh,  and,  above  all,  loathed 
the  fact  that  he  was  becoming  bald.  Some  one  had 
told  him  that  he  resembled  the  late  Louis  Napoleon, 
and  immediately  afterward  he  strove  to  heighten  the 
resemblance  by  training  his  whiskers  and  mustache 
after  the  fashion  of  the  emperor.  Indeed,  so  studious 
did  he  become  in  this  direction  that  he  kept  a  print  of 
Napoleon  hanging  near  his  looking-glass,  so  that,  in 
making  his  toilet,  he  could  truthfully  follow  his  pattern. 
He  was  extremely  neat  in  dress,  and  wore  his  coat- 
sleeves  shoved  back  so  that  he  might  show  his  spotless 
cuffs.  He  kept  a  jeweler's  shop  at  Emryville,  and, 
having  come  from  Virginia,  boarded  with  Hammonds. 

While  we  were  discussing  a  subject  which  seemed  to 
have  awakened  general  interest,  Jinny,  suddenly  break 
ing  off,  turned  to  Hammonds  and  said: 

"  Eli,  if  you  was  in  Norfolk  to-night,  what  would  you 
t>rder?" 

Hammonds    grasped    his    whiskers,    "  ducked       his 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  55 

head,  spat  at  the  fire-place,  wiped  his  mouth,  and, 
while  an  expression  of  deep  thought  was  sitting  on 
his  face,  answered: 

"  Well,  Joe,  I'd  go  down  to  old  Billy's  —  you  know 
where  he  keeps?" 

"  Mighty  well.      Been  there  a  thousand  times." 

"  Well,  I'd  go  down  to  old  Billy's  and  I'd  first  order 
a  dozen  broiled." 

"  But  wouldn't  you  order  a  dozen  raw  first,  Eli?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Eli,  smacking  his  mouth,  "I  believe  1 
would.  I'd  order  a  dozen  raw  and  then  a  dozen 
broiled." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe,  smacking  his  mouth  and  then  comb 
ing  his  mustache  with  a  nickel-back  comb  which  he 
took  from  his  pocket. 

"  And  then,"  Eli  continued,  "  I'd  order  one  of  his 
famous  stews.  Then  I'd  set  there  and  live  like  a  king. 
Joe,  if  you  was  in  Norfolk  to-night,  what  would  you 
order?" 

"  Well,  Eli,  I'd  go  down  to  old  Billy's—" 

"  Yes,"  said  Eli,  grasping  his  whiskers,  spitting  and 
then  smacking  his  mouth. 

"  And  first  order  a  stew,  I  believe." 

"  No,"  Eli  declared,  "  a  dozen  raw." 

"  Well,  yes,  a  dozen  raw." 

Colonel  Osbury  moved  his  chair  over  to  where  I  was 
sitting,  and,  in  an  undertone,  said  :  "  These  fellows 
would  talk  all  night  on  that  subject.  We'll  have  to 
break  it  up,  or  we  shall  all  be  transported  to  Norfolk. 
Ah,  Hammonds,"  he  added,  aloud,  "  how  is  business 
in  the  clerk's  office?" 


56  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Sorter  slow  at  present." 

"Business  good  with  you,  Jinny?" 

"  Well,  I  tinker  on  a  watch  now  and  then." 

"Have  you  tinkered  on  mine  yet  ? "  Boyd  Savely 
asked. 

"  No,  haven't  got  quite  up  to  it  yet." 

"  You've  had  it  thre~  weeks. " 

"  Come,  now;  not  that  long." 

"  Yes,  and  when  I  left  it  you  declared  that  you'd 
have  it  ready  for  me  the  next  day." 

14  Well,  I'll  get  to  it  pretty  soon.  By  the  way,  can't 
we  have  some  music  ?  Miss  Annie,  won't  you  sing 
and  play  for  us  ?  " 

"  Really,  I  sing  so  little  that  I  am  out  of  voice," 
Miss  Annie  declared. 

The  persuasion  became  so  general  and  so  fervent  that 
Miss  Annie  seated  herself  at  the  piano.      She  sang  a 
stirring  ballad,  beginning  with,  "  Come,  all  ye  Texas 
rangers,   wherever  you    may  be,   a   story  I've  to    tell 
you  which  happened  unto  me,"  and  ending  with  some 
thing  in  relation  to  the  fearfulness  of  a  bloody  charge 
Her  high  notes  made  even  old  Buck  wince,  while  Fred, 
glancing  at  me,  snorted,  and  then  cleared  his  throat  to 
disguise  his  mirth. 

"  Come,  give  us  something  else,"  Savely  cried.      He 
had  talked  to  Luzelle  during  the  entire  time  of  the  previ- 
)us  performance. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Savely,  you  must  excuse  me." 

"  How's  that  ?  "  Savely  asked.  He  had  turned  to 
Luzelle,  and  had  even  forgotten,  it  seemed,  that  he  had 
asked  her  to  sing. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 


57 


"I  say  you  must  excuse  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  must  sing.     Go  ahead." 

Then  she  sang  something  of  a  speculative  nature  in 
ivhic^  she  wondered  if  he  would  coir ..e  to  her  again. 
It  was  one  of  those  old-fashioned  songs  with  faded 
sentiment,  and  was  so  ludicrous  in  its  avowed  desola 
tion  that  even  old  Buck  grinned.  Eli  seized  his  whisk 
ers  with  a  jerk  and  spat  at  the  fire-place,  and  Colonel 
Osbury,  who,  I  could  see,  wanted  to  laugh,  leaned 
over  and  said: 

"  She  is  quite  a  literary  woman,  Burwood.  Ah, 
Miss  Annie,"  —  the  song  was  finished,  —  "  what  is  the 
name  of  that  continued  story  you  wrote  for  the  Emry- 
ville  Falcon?" 

"  *  The  Baron's  Daughter;  or,  The  Whispering  Duke.' 
If  you  would  like  to  read  it,  Mr.  Burwood,  I  will  bring 
over  the  papers  containing  it." 

"  Haven't  you  brought  it  out  in  book  form  ? "  I 
evasively  asked. 

"  No,  not  yet,  but  Cap't  Jinny  has  promised  tc  take 
it  to  Louisville  for  me  the  next  time  he  goes.  You 
read  it,  didn't  you,  Mr.  Savely?" 

*  Not  all  of  it.  I  missed  two  or  three  numbers  ol 
the  Falcon,  and  then  had  to  let  the  story  go." 

"  I'll  lend  you  my  copies,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  no,"  Savely  rejoined,  "  I'll  wait  till  the  book 
comes  out.  By  the  way,  Colonel,  when  are  you  going 
to  begin  on  the  'History  of  Shellcut '  ?  " 

'  Bright  and  early  to-morrow  morning,"  the  ColoneJ 
answered. 


58 


KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  The  country  is  gettin*  to  be  terrible  literary/'  said 
old  Buck. 

Mrs.  Osbury,  glancing  mischievously  at  the  Colonel, 
said  that  George  D.  Prentice  must  have  had  something 
to  do  with  it,  and  Luzelle  asserted  that  at  least  an 
amanuensis  of  the  poet  must  have  exerted  an  influence. 

"  Now,  missie/'said  the  Colonel,  "  it  is  your  time  to 
give  us  some  music.  Sing  that  half-savage  song  you 
picked  up  somewhere  while  you  were  away  from  home." 

Luzelle  went  to  the  piano.  She  said  something  in 
an  undertone,  and  then  looked  up  at  Savely  —  who  had 
followed  her  —  with  a  quick  smile.  The  next  moment 
I  sat  in  a  thrilling  trance.  I  lost  sight  of  every  one  in 
the  room  —  every  one  except  Luzelle.  I  was  borne 
away  on  the  painful  pinions  of  hopeless  love  and 
jealousy,  and  when  the  song  was  hushed,  I  was  brought 
back,  it  seemed,  with  a  heartless  jerk.  We  again 
indulged  in  conversation,  and  there  were  occasional 
outbursts  of  laughter,  but  I  do'  not  remember  a  word 
that  was  spoken.  I  saw  Luzelle  smile,  but  she  did  not 
smile  on  me.  I  was  excited  and  tremulous,  and  a 
sudden  stir  told  me  that  the  visitors  were  taking  theii 
leave,  but  to  me  all  faces  were  alike  —  all  except  one 
face  that  charmed  me.  I  went  to  bed  feverish  and 
heartsore,  and  lay  listening  to  an  owl  that  hooted  in 
sarcasm  of  all  earthly  yearning.  A  midnight  "  rooster  " 
uttered  his  ringing  notes;  a  night  hawk  screamed  in 
defiant  reply.  A  clumsy  black  bug  flew  around  the 
room  and  struck  the  wall  with  a  dismal  bump.  A  dog 
barked,  and  then  nature  sank  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   HISTORY    UNDER   WAY. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  breakfast,  the  next  morning,  the 
Colonel  and  I  began  our  literary  labors.  Old  Buck 
was  ordered  to  take  his  flute  into  the  woods,  if  he  could 
not  forego  the  temptation  of  blowing  it,  and  a  procla 
mation  of  "  S-h-e-e  "  was  issued  throughout  the  house. 
The  Colonel,  after  drinking  a  mint  toddy,  took  a  roll  of 
manuscript  from  a  book-case,  looked  it  over,  and  said: 

"  Burwood,  I  think  we'd  better  begin  anew.  This 
stuff  seems  to  be  too  much  devoted  to  the  character  of 
the  soil.  We  want  to  begin  with  something  more 
lively.  We  might  start  with  Shellcut's  organization 
as  a  county,  and  then  write  up  a  fight  between  the 
first  county  judge  and  the  first  sheriff.  The  judge 
was  killed,  and  then  his  son  took  up  the  fight  and 
killed  the  sheriff.  Don't  you  think  that  ought  to  make 
a  good  starter  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  just  say  that,  after  much  squabbling  in  the 
legislature,  the  county  was  organized  in  1826,  and 
then  go  right  into  the  difficulty  between  the  judge  and 
the  sheriff.  Fix  it  up  in  a  sort  of  exciting  way. " 

"  What  were  the  names  of  the  officers  ?  "     I  asked, 

"  Let  me  see.  Hanged  if  I  know.  Hum,  I  did 
know*  Is  it  necessary  to  know  their  names?" 

m 


60  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  your  book  to  bear  the  stamp  of 
truth." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  meditating  pro 
foundly,  and  then,  after  drinking  another  mint  toddy 
(of  course,  asking  me  to  drink,  but  which  I  declined), 
sat  down,  stretched  out  his  legs,  thrust  his  hands  deep 
into  his  pockets,  and,  in  a  self-condemnatory  tone, 
remarked: 

"  Why  didn't  I  think  of  this  last  night  while  Ham 
monds  was  here  ?  Well,  leave  the  names  blank,  and 
we'll  fill  'em  out  afterward." 

He  then  gave  me,  in  detail,  an  account  of  the  fight, 
and,  after  lying  down  on  the  sofa,  said:  "  Go  ahead, 
now,  and  get  that  down,  and,  in  case  I  should  drop  off 
to  sleep,  wake  me  when  you  get  it  finished. " 

I  rather  enjoyed  the  writing,  for,  having  been  idle  so 
long,  work  had  become  agreeable;  and  fancy,  yielding 
to  demand,  came  generously  to  my  assistance.  I  threw 
in  many  little  details,  and  painted,  with  more  or  less 
effect,  many  pictures  which  I  thought  might  please  the 
old  gentleman.'  The  dinner  bell  rang.  I  continued  to 
write,  and  the  Colonel  continued  to  sleep.  There  came 
a  gentle  tapping  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  I  called. 

Luzelle  entered.  She  had  evidently  been  riding,  for 
her  cheeks  were  aglow,  and  in  her  eyes  there  seemed 
to  be  the  lingering  excitement  of  a  wild  dash  on  horse 
back. 

"  Is  pa  asleep  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Is  that  what  he  calls  dictating  ?  " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  6 1 

"  He  dictated  before  he  went  to  sleep,  and  I, 
remembering  what  he  said,  have  written  it." 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  advancing  and  taking  up  a 
sheet  of  manuscript.  "  You  write  a  very  good  hand,'* 
she  added.  "  How  long  has  pa  been  asleep  ?  " 

"  Who's  asleep  ?  "  the  Colonel  asked,  sitting  up. 

"  You  have  been,  haven't  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Haven't  slept  a  wink,"  he  rejoined.  "  I've  been 
lying  here  thinking." 

"  Well,  dinner  is  ready." 

"  All  right.  You  go  ahead,  and  Mr.  Burwood  and 
I  will  come  when  we  have  looked  over  our  work." 

Luzelle  withdrew,  and  the  Colonel  asked  me  to  read 
the  first  "  stagger"  (as  he  termed  it)  at  the  "  History  of 
Shellcut." 

I  did  so.  He  was  delighted.  "  Why,  suh,"  said  he, 
"  that  reads  like  a  novel,  but  it  is  true,  every  word  of 
it.  Oh,  we'll  make  folks  open  their  eyes,  I  tell  you. 
By  George,  suh,  I  didn't  know  you  understood  the 
situation  so  well.  Come,  let  us  eat  dinner,  and  then 
we'll  rest  awhile." 

Day  after  day  our  work  went  forward,  with  constant 
delight  to  the  Colonel  and  with  something  of  a  pleas 
ure  to  me,  for  the  close  and  almost  self- forgetful  em 
ployment  of  writing  drew  my  mind,  as  much  as  any 
thing  could,  away  from  a  gloomy  brooding.  Playful 
spring  was  sobered  into  earnest  summer,  and  the 
young  mocking-birds  were  learning  to  fly.  From 
across  the  fields  there  came  the  song  of  the  plow-boy, 
and  at  evening,  when  the  twilight  was  slowly  settling 
into  dusk,  the  black  martin  caught  the  lady-bug. 


62  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

I  no  longer  made  an  effort  to  interest  Luzelle.  She 
treated  me  with  courtesy,  but  in  her  manner  toward 
me  there  was  none  of  the  friendlinesss  which  daily 
association  should  inspire.  Mrs.  Osbury  was  kindness 
itself,  and,  with  motherly  earnestness,  she  strove  to 
make  my  surroundings  pleasant.  Old  Buck,  too  lazy 
to  go  to  the  woods,  blew  his  flute  in  the  corn-crib.  He 
muttered  against  the  hardship  to  which  he  was  sub 
jected,  and  on  one  occasion  declared  that  unless  the 
"  fool  history  "  were  soon  completed  or  burned  up,  he 
would  leave  the  place.  "  A  man  may  be  a  fust-rate 
feller,"  he  said,  addressing  me,  "  but  just  let  him  begin 
to  write  something,  and  he  thinks  it's  the  duty  of  every 
body  in  the  neighborhood  to  go  off  somewhere  and 
sit  down  and  not  say  anything.  I  k'.iow  it  was  that 
way  with  me  once  when  I  was  writing  a  play." 

"  Did  you  finish  the  work  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  What  became  of  it  ?" 

"  Feller  stold  it,  and  since  that  time  at  least  a  dozen 
plays  have  been  taken  from  it.  You  see,  I  sent  it  to 
a  manager,  and  when  I  called  for  it  he  pretended  that 
he  couldn't  find  it.  Shortly  after  that  I  noticed  a 
change  cropping  out  in  the  American  drama,  all  owin', 
I  could  see  plainly,  to  my  play.  Don't  say  anything 
to  Remington  about  it.  He  would  swear  that  I  was  a 
fool  to  be  robbed  this  way,  and  I  reckon  I  am,  but  how 
am  I  to  help  myself?" 

The  old  fellow  actually  believed  that  he  had  been 
deeply  wronged. 

Jinny  and  Hammonds  came  over  occasionally,  and 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  63 

never  failed  (sometimes  during  an  animated  discussion) 
to  ask,  "  If  you  was  in  Norfolk  to-night,  what  would 
you  order  ?"  It  made  no  difference  whether  it  were 
morning  or  noon-tide,  the  question  varied  not  to  suit 
the  time.  It  was  always,  "  If  you  was  in  Norfolk  to 
night." 

Miss  Bumpus  brought  "  The  Baron's  Daughter;  or, 
The  Whispering  Duke,"  and  after  telling  me  that  I 
must  read  it  and  give  her  my  "  unbiased  opinion," 
reflected  a  moment,  and  said : 

"  No,  I  will  not  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  reading  it. 
I  will  read  it  to  you."  But  she  did  not,  for  the  Col 
onel  came  to  my  relief.  "  My  dear  Miss  Annie,"  said 
he,  "  you  do  yourself  an  injustice.  No  man  can  put 
the  proper  estimate  upon  a  thing  he  hears  read.  He 
must  read  the  lines  himself — must  pick  out  the 
striking  points  and  read  them  over  again  and  again." 

One  morning,  Fred  came  into  my  room,  before 
I  had  gotten  out  of  bed,  and  asked  if  he  might  tell  me 
a  deep  secret. 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  And  you  won't  say  a  word  about  it?  " 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  I  feel  like  I  ought  to  tell  somebody,  and  yet  I  hang 
fire.  I  have  been  to  see  Ella  Mayhew  a  good  deal 
lately.  I  haven't  told  her  anything  about  my  folks.  1 
was  afraid  that  she  might  get  scared." 

"  There  would  be  nothing  to  frighten  her,"  I 
responded. 

"  Well,  there  may  not  be,  but  it  seems  to  me  like 


64 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


there  is.  Now,  you  have  promised  not  to  say  a  word, 
haven't  you?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  we  are  going  to  get  married." 

11  Not  very  soon,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  to-day." 

"  Look  here,  young  man,  you'd  better  speak  to  your 
father  and  mother  about  it." 

• 

"  No,  I  am  not  going  to  say  a  word.  Somehow,  I 
haven't  got  the  nerve  to  do  it. " 

"  But  bringing  your  wife  home,  without  having 
spoken  a  word  regarding  your  intention,  will  require 
still  more  nerve." 

"  No,  it  won't.  It  might  for  some  fellers,  but  it 
won't  for  me.  When  I  introduce  her  as  my  wife  they 
can't  say  anything." 

"  Fred,  this  is  a  very  serious  matter.  " 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  over  time  and  again,"  he 
replied,  "  and  I  can't  come  to  but  one  conclusion,  and 
that  conclusion  will  be  acted  on  to-day.  I  know  that 
she  is  older  than  I  am,  but  I  love  her,  and  that  settles 
it.  Remember  your  promise." 

I  continued  to  remonstrate  with  him,  but  I  saw  that 
it  was  useless. 

Shortly  after  breakfast  old  Buck  took  down  his  flute 
and  went  to  the  corn-crib,  but  soon  returned,  bringing 
back  with  him,  in  addition  to  his  musical  instrument, 
an  excited  air  and  an  expression  of  anger. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  the  Colonel  asked  when  old 
Buck  came  bustling  into  the  library. 


KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  65 

"  Why,  Fred's  hitching  old  Tom  to  the  buggy  and 
says  that  he's  going  to  keep  him  nearly  all  day." 

"Well,  what  of  that?" 

"  What  of  it  !  Why,  I  want  to  go  to  Emryville  after 
dinner." 

"  Can't  you  take  some  other  horse  ?  " 

"  I  always  drive  old  Tom,  and  Fred  knows  it.  I 
don't  like  to  be  treated  this  way,  I  can  tell  you  that. 
Here  I've  been  workin'  like  a  nigger  for  the  last  five 
years  and  haven't  hardly  been  off  the  place,  and  now 
that  I  want  to  go  away  for  half  a  day's  rest,  I—— it's  a 
d d  shame,  Remington,  that's  all  !  " 

"  Go  on,  Buck,  and  blow  your  flute,"  the  Colonel 
replied,  struggling  with  himself  to  suppress  his  laughter. 

"  Blow  my  flute  !  "  Buck  roared,  "  blow  my—"  He 
wheeled  around  and  struck  the  mantel-piece  with  his 
flute,  and,  startled  by  the  probable  ruin  of  his  instru 
ment,  exclaimed,  "  Merciful  heavens,  what  have  I 
done  !" 

11  You  have  smashed  that  yellow  torturer,  and  I  am 
glad  of  it,"  the  Colonel  rejoined. 

"  I  hope  not,"  old  Buck  answered,  "  but  111  fix  it  if  1 
have."  He  hastened  away. 

"  Worked  like  a  negro!"  said  the  Colonel,  and  then 
shouted  with  laughter  until  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks. 

I  was  nervous  during  the  day  —  nervous  because  I 
knew  of  an  approaching  event  that  would  be  likely  to 
startle  the  Osbury  family,  and  more  than  once  I  was 
tempted  to  prepare  the  Colonel  for  the  coming  sur 
prise,  but,  remembering  my  promise,  spoke  no  warn- 

6 


66  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

ing  word.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  while  the  Colonel, 
Mrs.  Osbury,  Luzelle,  old  Buck  and  I  were  sitting  on 
the  gallery,  I  saw  a  buggy  coming  toward  the  house. 
I  said  nothing,  but  Luzelle,  seeing  the  vehicle  and 
recognizing  it,  remarked  : 

"  Yonder  comes  Fred,  and  there  is  some  one  in  the 
buggy  with  him.  A  woman,  I  think." 

"  I  wonder  who  it  can  be?"  said  Mrs.  Osbury. 

"  One  of  the  neighbor  girls,  doubtless,"  the  Colonel 
answered. 

"  No  matter  who  she  is,"  said  old  Buck,  "  I  don't 
care  to  see  her,  for  Fred  made  me  mad  this  mornin', 
and  I  don't  propose  to  be  bowin'  an'  scrapin'to  people 
that  he  brings  here.  " 

Old  Buck  went  into  the  house.  By  this  time  the 
buggy  had  reached  the  yard  gate.  Fred  helped  the 
woman  out,  and,  with  a  boldness  which  I  scarcely 
expected,  conducted  her  toward  the  house.  When 
they  reached  the  steps,  Mrs.  Osbury  advanced  to  meet 
them. 

"Mother,"  said  the  young  man,  "this  is  my 
wife." 

"  What!"  yelled  the  Colonel,  springing  to  his  feet. 
"Your  wife!" 

"  Yes,  my  wife." 

Mrs.  Osbury,  who  now  stood  leaning  against  a  post, 
having  staggered  back  when  Fred  made  his  startling 
announcement,  attempted  to  say  something,  but,  fail 
ing,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed. 

"What  do  you  mean!"  exclaimed  the  Colonel, 
addressing  Fred's  wife,  who  stood  without  apparent 


A  JCEtfTUUK-Y  COLONEL-  6) 

embarrassment,  taking  off  her  gloves.  "  I  say,  what 
do  you  mean  by  coming  here  this  way?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  am  Mr.  Osbury's  wife,  sir." 

"  And  a  bold  wife,  I  must  say,"  said  Luzelle,  step 
ping  forward.  "  Mother,  don't  take  on  so.  If  he  is 
married  it  can't  be  helped." 

The  woman  bowed  gracefully,  and,  addressing 
Luzelle,  replied:  "  My  husband  did  not  tell  me  that 
such  a  warm  greeting  awaited  me,  but " 

"  What's  the  matter  here!"  exclaimed  old  Buck, 
coming  out  on  the  porch.  "  Fred  married!  Why  — 
My  God,  Remington  —  my  God,  this  is  the  woman 
that  I  was  to  marry!  This  is  the  woman  that  stole  the 
horse!" 

"  You  are  a  liar!"  Fred  vociferated,  springing  for 
ward  and  shaking  his  fist  in  his  uncle's  face.  "  You 
are  an  old  liar,  and  if  you  dare  say  another  word 
against  my  wife,  I'll  choke  you  to  death!" 

The  rest  of  the  family  stood  in  speechless  amaze 
ment. 

"  Who  is  that  violent  old  man,  Fred?"  the  woman 
asked.  Having  taken  off  her  gloves,  she  was  now 
rolling  them  into  a  ball.  "  He  is  very  disagreeable." 

"  Leave  my  house!  "  thundered  the  Colonel.  "  Get 
right  out,  this  minute  !  " 

"  Father,  if  she  goes,  I  go,"  the  young  husband  re 
plied. 

"  Then  go!  "  the  Colonel  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  no,  Remington,  do  not  drive  them  away," 
Mrs.  Osbury  implored.  "  There  may  be  some  mistake. 
Do  not  drive  them  aivay." 


68  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Go!"  the  Colonel  demanded,  waving  his  hand  to 
ward  the  gate. 

"  Come,  Ella,  we  must  go,"  the  young  man  said; 
"  we  cannot  live  here." 

Mrs.  Osbury  sprang  forward,  threw  her  arms  around 
Fred,  and  sobbed  upon  his  breast. 

"  Turn  him  loose,  Mary,"  said  the  Colonel,  gently 
removing  her  arms,  "  turn  him  loose.  Now,  go,  and 
don't  you  ever  bring  that  woman  here  again." 

Mrs.  Osbury  attempted  to  follow  them  to  the  gate, 
but  the  Colonel  restrained  her.  When  the  buggy 
turned  toward  the  big  gate,  Mrs.  -Osbury  sank  down 
upon  the  floor.  The  Colonel,  down  whose  cheeks  tears 
were  flowing,  took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  ke^  into 
the  house. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  NURSING  OF  SORROW. 

AN  atmosphere  of  sadness  hung  about  the  house;  the 
11  History  of  Shellcut  County  "  was  laid  aside.  Several 
days  passed  before  Mrs.  Osbury  left  her  room,  and 
when  she  did  appear  (at  the  supper-table,  one  eve 
ning),  her  pale  and  haggard  face  bespoke  the  depth  of 
her  sorrow.  The  Colonel,  by  many  acts  of  attention 
and  by  many  words  of  soft  endearment,  strove  to 
soothe  her. 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  would  say;  "  don't  grieve,  for, 
mark  what  I  tell  you:  Fred  will  be  back  here  inside  of 
two  weeks." 

"  No,"  she  would  declare,  "  not  unless  you  let  him 
bring  —  his  wife  with  him.  You  know  he  is  proud  and 
independent." 

"  That's  all  well  enough,  Mary;  that's  all  well  enough. 
Everybody's  proud  to  a  more  or  less  extent.  He'll 
come  in  some  day  about  the  time  the  dinner-horn 
blows — come  in  with  two  or  three  tucks  in  his  appe 
tite.  He's  an  Osbury,  you  know;  so  much  of  an 
Osbury  that  hell  strike  a  trot  toward  home  when  his 
appetite  begins  to  pinch  him." 

"  Remington,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your 
self  to  talk  of  the  poor  boy  that  way." 

"  Why,  I  ought  not  to  be  ashamed  to  say  that  he 

09 


JQ  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

has  sense  enough  to  come  home  when  he  is  hungry. 
Don't  worry,  now;    he'll  be  back  pretty  soon." 

"  If  he  had  intended  to  come  back  so  soon  he 
wouldn't  have  sent  for  his  clothes." 

"  Well,  he  sent  back,  you  see,  from  Emryville,  while 
he  was  still  excited,  and  at  a  time,  of  course,  when  he 
had  no  intention  of  coming  back." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  he  has  such  an  inten 
tion  now  ?  " 

"  He  may  not  have  it  yet,  but  he  will.  Don't  you 
worry  —  don't  wear  yourself  out  this  way." 

By  slow  degrees  the  Colonel  persuaded  her  to  share 
his  view,  or,  as  I  was  inclined  to  believe,  his  pretended 
view,  but  even  after  she  had  granted  that  he  was  doubt 
less  right,  she  would  occasionally  upbraid  herself  for  so 
soon  yielding  to  words  of  consolation.  Even  in  grief 
the  most  unpretentious  of  us  shallow  mortals  are  some 
times  proud  —  proud  that  we  have  a  nature  that 
almost  refuses  to  give  up  a  sorrow. 

One  morning  I  sat  on  a  bench,  under  a  clump  of 
lilac  bushes  in  the  garden.  There  had  been  a  shower 
the  night  before,  and  the  hollyhock,  which,  a  few  days 
previously,  had  seemed  to  be  ill-dressed  and  care-worn, 
was  now  bright  and  almost  impudent  in  a  suit  of  velvet. 
I  had  boarded  the  noiseless  train  of  half-listless  thought 
and  was  gliding  away  along  that  road  which  crosses 
many  rivers,  but  whose  terminus  we  never  reach,  when 
a  voice  threw  the  train  off  the  track.  Looking  up,  I 
saw  Luzelle  standing  in  the  path  a  few  feet  from  me. 
She  wore  a  soft,  cream-colored  dress,  rather  low  in  the 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  71 

neck,  and  as  she  stood  there  I  fancied  that  she  was  the 
spirit  of  the  garden's  freshness. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  spoke  twice,  but  you  did 
not  appear  to  care  whether  or  not  you  answered  me." 

That  remark  gave  me  a  new  glimpse  of  her  char 
acter.  My  seeming  indifference  had  awakened  her 
interest. 

"  I  did  not  hear  you,"  I  replied,  with  forced  care 
lessness.  "  I  was  thinking." 

"  Oh,  you  were  !  The  '  History  of  Shellcut  County,' 
no  doubt,  requires  much  study.  It  is  twenty-six 
miles  one  way  and  fourteen  the  other,  and  cannot  be 
covered  by  mere  musing." 

"  What  is  twenty-six  miles  one  way  and  fourteen  the 
other  ? " 

"  The  county,  of  course." 

11  I  didn't  know  but  you  meant  the  history." 

"  Oh,  no;  the  history  may  be  as  long,  but  I  don't 
think  that  it  is  nearly  so  broad." 

Inwardly  I  winced  under  her  sarcasm,  but,  pleased 
with  the  thought  that  I  had  somewhat  aroused  her, 
I  managed  to  maintain  my  outward  show  of  careless 
ness. 

"  Histories  are  not  so  broad  as  some  other  forms  of 
literary  work,"  I  replied,  "  for  they  are  mainly  records 
of  the  narrow  transactions  of  men.  Women  are  so 
far  above  the  shallow  limitations  of  historical  com 
position  that  no  great  history  has  ever  been  written  by 
a  woman." 

"  At  least,"   she   rejoined,    coloring   slightly,    "  no 


72  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 

woman  has  ever  attempted  to  write  the  history  of  a 
mere  county." 

"  Which  is  no  doubt  well  for  people  who  hold  the 
county's  scrip. 

"  But  at  the  expense  of  truth,"  she  replied. 

"  And  perhaps  at  the  expense  of  interest,"  said  I, 
"  for  the  county's  history,  written  by  a  woman,  would, 
of  course,  be  gossipy.5" 

"  At  any  rate,  there  would  be  something  in  it,"  she 
asserted. 

I  wanted  to  change  the  subject,  to  talk  of  something 
more  agreeable,  but,  fearful  that,  in  search  of  har 
mony,  the  sounding  of  a  gentler  chord  might  lead  to 
a  spiritless  exchange  of  words,  I  replied  that  all  books 
written  by  women  had  something  in  them  —  something 
light. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered,  quickly,  "  something  light, 
a  guiding  torch  where  man  would  have  placed  some 
thing  heavy,  the  dark  stumbling-block  of  his  own  ego 
tism.  Oh,  hereis  brother  Henry!"  she  exclaimed,  and, 
turning  about  with  a  graceful  bound,  she  ran,  without- 
stretched  hands,  to  meet  a  man  who  came  slowly  down 
the  path. 

"  Brother  Henry,"  said  Luzelle,  waiving  her  hand 
at  me,  "  this  is  Mr.  Quarrelsome  Burwood." 

I  shook  hands  with  him,  and,  influenced  by  that  in 
definable  something  which  we  term  intuition,  I  liked 
him  at  once.  He  was  a  fine-looking  man,  and  was 
apparently  about  thirty  years  of  age;  was  rather  care 
less  in  dress,  but  his  manner  was  so  engaging,  and  in 
his  voice  there  was  the  ring  of  such  heartiness  and  good 


•4  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


73 


humor,  that  it  must  indeed  have  been  an  ill-conditioned 
fault-finder  who  would  have  waved  aside  his  striking 
qualities  of  manliness  and  looked  with  dispraising  eye 
upon  his  disregard  of  the  tailor's  art.  He  was  a  grad 
uate  of  the  Washington  and  Lee  University,  and  it  re 
quired  but  a  few  moments'  conversation  with  him  to 
reveal  the  fact  that  his  excellent  intellectual  training  had 
been  supplemented  by  a  close  association  with  books. 

"  Have  you  and  Luzelle  been  quarreling?"  he  laugh 
ingly  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  answered,  "  she  has  simply  been  enjoy 
ing  herself  at  my  expense." 

"  She  does  notspare  me,"  he  responded,  stroking  the 
girl's  hair.  "  Sometimes  she  stabs  me  with  a  keen 
dagger,  but  then,  with  a  soft  handkerchief,  she  gently 
wipes  away  the  blood." 

"  But  you,"  she  replied,  "  rake  me  with  a  saw  and 
leave  me  to  bleed  alone." 

"  Yes,  in  impulsive  self-defense,  I  rake  you,  but  I 
soon  return  and  bind  up  the  wound  in  a  piece  of  lace 
curtain." 

She  attempted  to  pull  his  ears,  and  then,  with  a 
sudden  gravity  of  manner,  asked: 

"  Have  you  seen  pa?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  seating  himself  on  the  bench. 
"  I  have  seen  everybody,  including  Uncle  Buckhorn.  I 
would  have  come  sooner  and  offered  my  services  as 
consoling  agent  and  general  adviser,  but  was  not  in 
town  at  the  time  of  Fred's  escapade,  and  did  not  hear 
of  it  until  I  returned  yesterday.  Of  course,  it  is  a 
senous  matter,  but  it  does  not  warrant  a  complete  sur- 


74 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


render  to  grief.  Mother  couldn't  look  worse  if  Fred 
had  committed  suicide,  though  father  tells  me  she  has 
improved  greatly.  The  woman  is  simply  an  advent 
uress,  and  will  soon  grow  tired  of  her  infatuated 
adorer.  Mr.  Burwood,  do  you  feel  like  taking  a 
stroll?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Let  us  go  across  the  fields,"  said  he.  "  Do  you 
want  to  go,  Luzelle?  " 

"  No,  I  am  sunburned  enough  as  it  is." 

"  All  right,  go  and  shut  yourself  up." 

The  field  hands  were  "  laying  by  "  the  corn.  Crick 
ets  chirruped  in  the  rank  crab  grass  that  grew  in  the 
"  turn  rows,"  and  the  "  dry  fly,"  with  his  rasping  song, 
startled  from  his  hiding-place  under  the  bending  corn- 
blades,  flew  away  with  an  angry  buzz.  We  went  into 
the  woods  and  strolled  along  a  deep-shaded  path 
whose  edges  were  green  with  moss.  I  felt  that  I  was 
with  a  man  who  was  inspired  with  that  lofty  sentiment 
—  a  love  of  nature.  We  were  silent,  both  of  us  seem 
ing  to  feel  that  even  the  softest  voice  could  be  but  harsh 
in  comparison  with  the  low  and  sweet  murmur  of  the 
trembling  leaves.  When  we  had  reached  the  "  pike," 
and  had  turned  toward  home,  Osbury  asked  me  how  I 
liked  the  neighborhood. 

"  My  admiration  of  the  scenery  —  the  woods  and 
fields,"  I  answered,  "  cannot  find  expression." 

"  The  longer  you  stay  here  the  better  you  will  like 
your  surroundings.  Of  course,  there  is  an  absence  of 
what  some  men  term  life;  days  come  without  a  tremor 
of  excitement,  and,  with  an  undisturbed  sigh,  sink 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


75 


into  night,  but  the  air  is  full  of  pleasing  fancies;  quiet 
contemplation  seems  to  lie  spread  out  over  the  fields, 
and  in  the  thickly  wooded  places  deep  reverie  has  its 
home.  Nearly  all  my  life  —  a  dreaming  life,  too  —  has 
been  spent  on  this  farm.  I  can  look  back  upon  but 
few  incidents,  for  my  existence  has  been  a  series  of 
conditions.  I  am  not  one  of  the  class  that  makes  a 
country  great.  I  am  an  idler,  only  serious  when  the 
atmosphere  is  heavy,  and  only  gay  when  the  atmos 
phere  is  light.  I  could  never  make  money  —  I  de 
voted  much  study  to  the  multiplication  table,  but  am 
still  shaky  on  the  ninth  line;  I  have  done  nothing,  and 
yet  I  am  not  discouraged.  I  look  with  confidence  to 
the  future,  yet  I  know  not  why,  feeling,  as  I  do,  that 
I  shall  never  accomplish  anything.  I  am  not  lazy;  I 
take  pleasure  in  chopping  down  a  large  tree,  not  that 
the  performance  may  result  in  a  pile  of  wood,  but  that 
I  enjoy  the  grand  destruction  when  the  tree  falls.  If  a 
man  borrows  a  dollar  from  me,  I  never  think  of  its 
return,  and  if  I  borrow  a  dollar  from  a  man  I  do  not 
think  of  repaying  him.  Am  I  boring  you?"  he  asked. 

"A  man  is  never  bored  by  a  delineation  of  his  own 
character,"  I  rejoined.  "  He  may  be  chafed  and  he 
may  squirm,  but  he  is  far  from  feeling  the  rusty  auger. 
You  have  told  me  much  of  myself,  Mr.  Osbury." 

He  looked  at  me  and  smiled.  "  I  thought  so,"  he 
said;  "  I  recognized  our  relationship,  or  I  should  not 
have  given  you  my  photograph.  In  the  matter  of 
acquaintanceship,  a  few  minutes  can  sometimes  accom 
plish  the  work  of  years.  Even  now  I  feel  that  you 
know  me  better  than  do  some  men  who  held  me  on 


76  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

their  knees  when  I  was  a  child  and  who  have  seen  me 
almost  daily  since  that  time." 

As  we  neared  Gap's  cabin  we  saw  Jack  and  his  wife 
in  the  yard.  The  woman  was  turning  a  grindstone, — 
an  unenviable  assignment,  surely, —  and  the  man  was 
grinding  a  scythe.  We  stopped  at  the  fence,  and  Gap, 
upon  seeing  us,  exclaimed: 

"  W'y,  howdy,  gentlemen.  Ef  I  hadenter  seed  you 
I  wouldenter  know'd  you." 

He  put  aside  the  scythe,  and,  lazily  throwing  one 
leg  over  a  corner  of  the  grindstone  frame,  humped 
himself  into  that  lung-depressing  position  so  common 
among  men  who  have  spent  much  of  their  lives  in  a 
tobacco  field.  The  pale  child,  across  whose  face  there 
was  still  a  smear  of  molasses  and  ashes,  looked  up 
with  a  wan  smile,  but,  too  much  interested  to  be  drawn 
from  its  work  of  mysterious  diagram-making,  turned 
away  and  continued  to  mark  on  the 'ground  with  a 
stick.  . 

"  Wall,"  said  Gap,  "  do  you  know  anything  wuth 
dividin'  this  mawnin'?" 

"  I  don't  know  of  anything  worthy  of  division," 
Osbury  replied. 

"  Nothin'  fresh,  eh?" 

"Nothing." 

"  When'd  you  leave  town?" 

"  Early  this  morning." 

"  Any  discussion  going  on  up  thar,  ez  the  feller 
says?" 

"  I  haven't  heard  of  any.  How  is  your  health,  Mrs, 
Gap?" 


A  ^  ENTUCKY  COLONEL.  77 

"  Mighty  slow,  Mr.  Osbury;  mighty  slow,  but  I 
don't  reckin  a  body  ought  ter  complain,  as  long  as  they 
have  a  good  appetite  an' suthin'  ter  satisfy  it  with." 
She  stood  with  her  large  red  arms  folded  on  her  breast. 
Her  reddish  hair  stuck  out  like  a  tangled  wisp  of  wheat 
straw. 

"  Oh,  she's  gittin'  erlong  ez  well  ez  the  av'age," 
Gap  spoke  up.  She  gave  him  a  look  full  of  con 
temptuous  meaning.  "  Don't  git  pie  ever'  day,"  Gap 
went  on,  "  but  that  makes  it  all  the  sweeter  when  she 
do  git  it." 

"  But  ef  I  depended  on  you  fur  the  sugar  ter  sweeten 
the  pie  with,  it  would  stay  sour  a  mighty  long  time," 
she  replied. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  had  so  much  sugar  befo' 
I  went  up  yander  in  the  hills  an'  tuck  you  outen 
the  bresh.  I  didn't  see  no  sweet'nin'layin'  'roun' loose 
up  thar." 

"  Wall,  ef  you  hadn'ter  wanted  me  you  neenter  tuck 
me  away.  I  didn't  send  atter  you,  the  Lawd  knows." 

"  Now,  I'm  gittin'  it,"  said  Gap;  "  gittin'  it  now. 
But  that's  what  a  Blue-grass  man  gits  fur  goin'  up 
'mong  the  hills  an'  hollers,  outen  his  range." 

"  You  a  Blue-grass  man!  "  she  snapped.  "  I'd  take 
my  oath  you  was  raised  where  a  black-eyed  pea 
wouldn't  sprout." 

The  pale  child  looked  up  with  a  troubled  expression 
on  its  face. 

"  Here's  Uncle  Buck,"  said  Osbury.  Mr.  Hineman 
came  from  behind  the  house. 

"  Gap,"  said  he,  "  when  you  were  in  the  stable  this 


j  8 


KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


mornin'  did  you  see  anything  of  a  leather  string  hangin' 
on  a  nail  right  by  the  door?  " 

"  No,  don't  think  I  did." 

4<  Air  you  shore  you  didn't?" 

"  I  know  in  reason  that  I  didn't." 

"  Well,  it's  mighty  strange,  I  can  tell  you  that." 

"  But  what  have  I  got  ter  do  with  it,  if  it  is  mighty 
strange?  " 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing  mighty  certain.  I  saw  it 
hangin'  there  about  five  minutes  before  you  went  into 
the  stable,  but  when  I  went  in  there  about  five  minutes 
after  you  left,  it  was  gone." 

"  Look  here,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  tuck  yo' 
blamed  string?  " 

"  I  say  it's  mighty  strange." 

"  I  know  whut  you  say,  but  do  you  mean  that  I 
tuck  it?  " 

"  You  can  draw  yo'  own  conclusions." 

"  Wall,  I  ain't  drawin'  this  mornin',  an'  I  want  ter  tell 
you  that  ef  you  say  I  tuck  that  string,  you  air  a  ole  —  —  " 

"  Gap,"  Osbury  broke  in,  "  don't  go  too  far,  now. 
He  is  an  old  man  and  is  my  uncle,  and  when  you  abuse 
him  you  abuse  me.  Do  you  understand?  " 

He  evidently  understood,  for  the  defiance  into  which 
he  had  straightened  himself  gave  way  to  his  former 
humped-over  attitude.  Old  Buck's  face  was  purple 
with  rage.  "  Gap,"  he  exclaimed,  "  get  off  of  this 
place!  I  won't  have  you  here  another  day  longer.  I 
can't  put  up  with  your  laziness  and  impudence.  Get 
off  this  place!  " 

At  this  Gap  shouted  with  laughter,  and  even  Osbury 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  79 

could  not  help  smiling.  Old  Buck's  anger  subsided 
into  embarrassment,  and,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  he  stood  for  a  moment,  perplexed,  ashamed, 
and  then  drew  out  the  leather  string.  At  this  there 
was  another  outburst  of  laughter. 

"  I  don't  understand  this  at  all, "  said  the  old  man.  "  I 
don't  ricollect  takin'  this  string  off  of  that  nail.  There's 
so  infernally  much  worry  these  days  that  a  man  don't 
know  what  he's  doin'  half  the  time;  but  it's  a  goo# 
thing  for  you,  Gap,  that  I  found  it,  I  can  tell  you  that 
It'll  teach  you  a  lesson,  I  reckon.  It  will  learn  you  (/» 
let  things  alone  that  don't  belong  to  you.  I've  beer 
run  over  by  people  long  enough,  and  it's  got  to  stop 
right  here." 

We  heard  the  dinner-horn  before  we  reached  the 
house,  and,  although  we  had  left  old  Buck  standing  in 
Gap's  yard,  exclaiming  against  the  indignities  that 
were  put  upon  him  in  this  life,  and  although  we  had 
walked  rather  briskly,  yet  we  found  the  old  fellow 
sitting  at  the  table  when  we  entered  the  dining-room. 

"  Henry,"  said  the  Colonel,  when  we  were  all  seated, 
"  how  is  the  real  estate  market?  " 

"  Not  very  active." 

"  Have  you  ever  sold  any  land?" 

"  I  don't  remember." 

"  Hum.  Do  you  reckon  you'd  know  what  to  do  if  a 
man  were  to  come  in  and  offer  to  buy  a  lot?  " 

"  Well,  so  unexpected  an  occurrence  would  undoubt 
edly  startle  me;  but,  upon  recovering  my  nerve,  I 
think  that  I  could  enter  into  the  transaction. " 

;'  I  don't  know  about  that.     You  might  let  him  take 


8O  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

the  land,  but  I  don't  know  that  you  would  demand 
any  money  for  it." 

"  Now,  Remington,"  Mrs.  Osbury  spoke  up,  "  don't 
try  to  create  the  impression  that  Henry  hasn't  any 
sense  at  all.  I  am  sure  he  could  do  business  if  he  had 
the  chance." 

"Anybody  can  do  that,"  said  old  Buck.  "These 
days  a  man  sits  around  and  waits  for  a  chance,  but  in 
my  day  a  man  just  naturally  went  out  and  scared  up  a 
chance.  If  he  didn't  do  it  one  way  he  did  another." 

"  No  doubt  yours  was  a  day  of  great  energy,"  Henry 
replied.  "  Had  I  lived  then,  with  my  system  strongly 
impregnated  with  the  spirit  of  that  vigorous  day,  I 
should  now  be  some  great  financier;  or,  had  I  devoted 
myself  to  the  arts,  I  could  now  soothe  the  twilight 
of  my  life  with  the  soft  breathing  of  some  musical 
instrument." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean,"  old  Buck  declared; 
"  you  are  trying  to  cast  a  slur  on  my  flute;  but  let  me 
tell  you,  young  man,  there  are  worse  things  than  the 
flute." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Henry,  "  for  I  haven't  traveled 
very  much;  but  I  think  that  if  there  is  anything  that 
would  induce  me  to  travel  it  is  the  flute." 

"  You  don't  appreciate  music,  suh." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  give  the 
flute  all  the  room  it  wants.  By  the  way,  an  article  in 
the  North  American  Review  says  that  flute-blowing 
causes  wrinkles  in  the  face  and  induces  premature  fail 
ure  of  eyesight." 

Old  Buck  did  not  reply,  but  I  could  see  that  he  was 


A  KENTUCKY    COLC'XML.  §1 

deeply  concerned,  for  a  shadow  of  anxiety  passed 
across  his  face.  Henry,  thus  encouraged,  continued: 
"  I  had  thought  of  getting  a  clarionet  to  blow  at  even 
ing  when  I  should  have  nothing  else  to  do,  and  I  had 
spoken  to  Major  Patterson  with  regard  to  the  purchase 
of  an  old  horn  which  some  one  had  left  at  his  tavern, 
when  I  came  across  the  North  American  Review 
article." 

Old  Buck's  face  presented  an  amusing  picture.  He 
had  ceased  to  eat,  and,  with  a  faint  ray  of  hope  on  his 
*ace,  was  studying  the  manner  of  the  young  man,  but 
as  he  saw  no  sign  of  a  lurking  joke,  the  faint  ray  of 
hope  faded;  and,  shoving  back  his  chair,  the  old  fellow 
sank  into  a  state  of  deep,  and  evidently  troubled, 
meditation.  Luzelle,  tremulous  with  suppressed  mis 
chief,  glanced  at  her  brother,  but,  failing  to  catch  his 
eye",  looked  at  me  and  laughed;  but  old  Buck  took  no 
notice  of  her  merriment.  He  was  thinking  of  wrinkles 
and  of  failing  eyesight. 

After  dinner  we  sat  on  the  gallery,  all  of  us,  ex 
cept  old  Buck,  who,  still  meditating,  walked  up  and 
down  the  yard.  After  awhile  he  called  Henry. 

"  Come  out  here  a  minute,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to 
see  you  on  a  matter  of  business." 

"  I  am  not  attending  to  any  business  to-day,  Uncle 
Buck." 

"  But,  dang  it,  this  is  business  of  importance." 

"  Makes  no  difference,  I  can't  attend  to  it  to-day." 

"  Come,  Henry,"  the  Colonel  said  in  an  undertone, 
"  don't  worry  him.  He's  getting  old.  and  is  peculiar, 
anyway, " 


82  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"Comin',  Henry?" 

"  No,  not  just  now.  By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  make 
a  slight  correction  with  regard  to  flute-blowing.  The 
article  was  published  as  a  specimen  of  humor  prevalent 
in  England  two  hundred  years  ago." 

Old  Buck  came  upon  the  gallery  and  sat  down.  A 
load  seemed  to  have  been  lifted  from  his  mind;  and,  a 
few  minutes  later,  when  Henry  announced  his  readiness 
to  attend  to  the  important  business,  the  old  fellow 
said:  "  Oh,  we'll  just  let  it  go.  I  have  about  decided 
not  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  Burwood,"  the  Colonel  remarked,  "  I  think  we  had 
better  resume  our  work  to-morrow. " 

"  What,  on  Sunday  !  "  Mrs.  Osbury  exclaimed. 

*  Hum,  I  had  forgotten,"  the  Colonel  replied. 

"  But  you  ought  not  to  forget  such  things,  Reming 
ton,"  she  insisted. 

"  Probably  not,  but  we  are  hardly  responsible  for  the 
tricks  our  minds  play  us." 

"  But  if  we  train  our  minds  properly  they  will  not 
play  tricks  at  the  expense  of  a  day  that  we  ought  to 
regard  as  sacred.  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  you 
went  to  church  with  me,  Remington. " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  has,  but,  to  gratify  you,  I  will 
go  any  time." 

"  Oh,  but  you  should  not  go  to  gratify  me,  but  to 
gratify  yourself." 

"  Ah,  but  suppose  I  don't  hear  anything  to  gratify 
me?  Suppose  I  am  bored  by  some  old  fe^^w  in  whose 
piety  I  have  but  little  confidence  and  whose  «mnd  I 
know  to  be  shallow ?  Take  old  man  Boyle ,  for  instance. 


- 

A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  g^ 

1  have  known  him  ever  since  he  was  a  boy.     As  $ 
young  man  he  was  a  rascal." 

"  Does  that  mean  he  is  a  rascal  now?"  she  asked. 

"  To  me  it  does.  I  believe  that  a  born  rascal  \\ 
always  a  rascal.  ,  He  may,  in  after  years,  restrain  his 
inclinations,  but  the  rascally  principle  is  there,  all  the 
same.  Drunkards  reform,  and  even  the  liar  may 
finally  cultivate  a  respect  for  the  truth,  but  a  boy  that  will 
cheat  in  a  horse  trade,  will,  after  becoming  old,  do  the 
same  thing.  I  care  not  how  many  vows  he  may  take — 
it  makes  no  difference  how  many  mourners'  benches  he 
wets  with  his  tears,  the  rascally  part  of  his  nature 
remains  unchanged." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  that  a  man  can  be  born 
again?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that.  He  may  undergo 
certain  changes  through  remorse,  and  may  so  deeply 
regret  having  committed  certain  acts  that  he  will  never 
repeat  them,  but  I  do  say  that  I  have  never  known  a 
thoroughly  mean  man  to  become  a  good  man — that 
is,  a  man  who  has  inherited  viciousness." 

"  I  am  grieved  to  hear  you  talk  that  way,  Reming 
ton,  for  I  think  that  it  is  setting  a  bad  example.  It  is 
an  argument  in  favor  of  the  uselessness  of  attempting 
to  do  good." 

"  If  a  man  is  disposed  by  nature  to  do  right,  Mary, 
the  carrying-out  of  his  intentions  does  not  require  a 
constant  effort.  There  never  was  a  greater  fallacy  than 
the  supposition  that  all  men  are  born  equal,  inheriting 
the  same  amount  of  original  sin  and  capable  of  receiv 
ing  the  same  degree  of  moral  training.  No  other  form 


$4  *  KENTUCKY  CQLQN&JL 

of  animal  life  is  placed  upon  so  uniform  a  basis.  Horses 
are  not  equal.  Regardless  of  training,  some  of  them 
can  run  faster  than  others.  Now,  there's  this  fellow 
Whitburg,  the  evangelist  who  recently  stirred  up  the 
people  of  this  entire  section  of  the  country.  I  knew 
him  in  the  army.  He  was  a  liar  and  a  thief.  I  met 
him  the  other  day  in  Emryville.  His  physiognomy 
had  not  changed.  There  was  an  attempt,  it  seemed, 
to  hide,  with  the  forced  expression  of  piety,  the  old 
signs  of  'liar  and  thief,'  but  the  marks  were  still  there. 
And  yet  the  people,  forsaking  the  churches  of  true  and 
honorable  preachers  —  preachers  who  have  spent  their 
lives  in  working  for  the  moral  good  of  their  congrega 
tions —  flock  to  hear  that  sensational  impostor." 

"  Remington,  you  are  wrong,  I  feel  that  you  are. 
I  studied  Brother  Whitburg  closely  —  paid  attention  to 
every  word  he  said  —  and  I  am  sure  that  he  is  a  truly 
religious  man.  Henry,  my  son,  you  must  not  pay  too 
much  attention  to  what  your  father  says." 

"  My  views  are  pretty  well  settled,  mother.  I  believe 
that  God  takes  care  of  the  soul,  but  that  man  must  take 
care  of  the  body.  The  question  of  whether  or  not  a 
man  has  religion  does  not  concern  me.  But  what  is 
the  use  in  discussing  a  matter  that  can  never  be  satis 
factorily  adjusted?  To  me,  there  is  more  religion  in  a 
sassafras  sprout  that  supports  a  blooming  vine  —  in  a 
quail  which  at  early  morning  shakes  a  dewdrop  from 
his  crest  and  whistles  for  his  mate,  than  there  is  in  ten 
thousand  volumes  of  creed  discussion." 

14  Well,  let  it  all  go,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  let  it  all  go. 
Henry,  what  are  you  reading  now?  " 


*  KENTUCKY  CQLQNBL*  $5 

"  Novels,  mostly.  I  have  just  finished  reading  Karl 
Elder's  '  Baldine.'  It  is  a  charming  piece  of  work,  so 
pure,  so  clear,  so  simple  and  yet  so  strong. " 

"  Novels  don't  amount  to  anything,"  old  Buck  re 
sponded.  "  They  ain't  nothin'  but  a  lot  of  words  that 
tell'about  people  you  can't  see.  The  drama  knocks  the 
novel  silly.  In  the  theater  you  hear  the  thunder  when 
there's  a  storm,  and  instead  of  bein'  told  you  air  in  the 
woods  you  see  the  trees  and  know  you  air.  Talk  to  me 
about  novels!" 

"To  me,"  Henry  replied,  "  the  novel  is  much  more 
realistic  than  the  play.  The  novelist  tells  me  that  I  am 
in  the  woods.  He  shows  me  the  buds  and  the  leaves. 
He  tells  me  of  an  old  log  that  is  burning,  and  I  can  see 
the  smoke.  The  theater  shows  me  a  painted  forest. 
I  know  that  is  not  real.  I  do  not  see  any  boughs 
waving  —  I  see  no  birds,  see  no  leaf  fall.  I  know  that 
the  thunder  is  artificial.  The  novelist  tells  me,  for 
instance,  that '  Johnson  drew  a  dagger  and  plunged  it 
into  Jackson's  breast.'  I  see  the  horrible  act  —  I  see 
the  blood.  On  the  stage  Johnson  draws  a  dagger  and 
makes  a  motion  at  Jackson,  but  I  see  that  the  weapon 
is  not  plunged  into  Jackson's  breast.  I  know  that  it  is 
a  play.  In  the  matter  of  scenery,  the  overwrought 
attempt  at  realism  depresses  and  hampers  the  imagina 
tion.  At  least,  it  is  so  with  me.  I  don't  know 
how  it  is  with  other  people.  What  do  you  think, 
sister?  " 

"  I  hardly  know*  I  believe  that  the  play  is  more 
fascinating  at  the  time,  but  that  its  influence  does  not 
remain  with  us  so  long.  To  me,  the  characters  **>.  » 


86  ^  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

great  novel  are  real  human  beings,  but  when  the  book 
has  been  dramatized,  the  actors  give  them  an  artificial 


air." 


"Not  necessarily,"  said  old  Buck.  "  Now,  nobody 
ever  heard  me  boast,  but  I  want  to  say  one  thing.  In 
'57,  Wyatte  Taylor  and  a  passul  of  us  had  a  dramatic 
company,  and,  among  others,  we  played  a  piece  called 
'  Caught  on  a  Snag.'  I  took  the  part  of  Cy  Jeffries, 
and  people  that  knowed  what  they  was  talkin'  about 
lowed  that  they  never  saw  anything  more  natural  than 
that  was;  but  I  reckon  actin'  has  changed  a  good  deal 
sence  that  time.  Don't  you  like  the  drama  better, 
Burwood?" 

"  I  like  a  good  novel  better  than  I  do  a  bad  play,"  I 
rejoined,  "  and  I  would  rather  see  a  good  play  than  to 
read  a  poor  novel.  I  must,  however,  agree  with  Miss 
Luzelle — that  the  influence  of  the  novel  remains  longer 
with  us. " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Luzelle,  bowing.  "  You  are  in  a 
more  accommodating  mood  than  you  were  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  I  don't  believe  much  in  theaters,  or  novels  either," 
Mrs.  Osbury  declared.  "  They  may  contain  moral  les 
sons,  but  it  is  not  on  account  of  the  moral  teachings 
that  people  go  to  see  plays  or  read  novels.  Both  lead 
the  mind  away  from  more  serious  matters.  When  we 
come  to  die  we  don't  think  of  characters,  but  of  our 
own  souls." 

Thus  we  talked  until  supper-time.  Luzelle  occa 
sionally  addressed  a  remark  to  me,  and  once,  lost  in  3 
saptwrous  contemplation  of  her  beautiful  face,  I  wa? 


A  KENTUCKY  CQJLOST&L.  S? 

thrilled  with  happiness,  but  a  moment  later  I  saw  a 
cold  gray  eye  and  hair  inclined  toward  waviness  -— 
Boyd  Savely.  I  wondered  how  it  was  that  she  could 
love  a  man  of  so  little  sentiment,  a  man  whose  talk 
did  not  even  possess  that  snappiness  which  rudeness  of 
speech  not  unfrequently  carries.  But  did  she  really 
love  him? 

The  hour  was  growing  late.  We  had  spent  a  talk 
ative  evening  sitting  in  the  parlor,  a  room  made  sweet 
with  the  perfume  of  roses  that  Luzelle  had  brought 
from  the  garden,  and  the  Colonel  had  just  remarked 
upon  the  advisability  of  going  to  bed,  when  we  heard 
some  one  walking  down  the  hallway.  Luzelle  stepped 
to  the  door,  looked  out,  and,  turning,  quietly  said: 

"  Mother,  do  not  get  excited.  Your  matrimonial 
prodigal  son  has  returned.'* 

Mrs.  Osbury  sprang  to  her  feet  and  rushed  toward 
the  door.  Fred  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  There  now,  mother,  don't  take  on, "  said  the  young 
man.  "  It's  all  over  now,  and  I  have  come  back  to  ask 
for  pardon.  Father," — he  put  his  arms  round  the 
Colonel, — "  you  must  not  think  hard  of  me." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son  ;  God  bless  you." 

"  Uncle,"  —  he  put  his  arms  round  old  Buck,—"  I 
did  you  a  deep  wrong,  and  now  I  beg  your  forgiveness. " 

"  You  have  it,  Fred  ;  God  knows  you  have.  You — " 
The  old  man,  breaking  down,  sobbed  on  Fred's  shoul 
der.  "  You  don't  know  what  I  have  suffered,  my  dear 
boy.  I  am  old  and  foolish  and  disagreeable,  I  know, 
but  I  don't  mean  to  be.  That  woman  —  but  we  won't 
talk  about  her,  Fred  ;  we  won't  talk  about  her." 


88  ^  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 

Fred  shook  hands  with  Henry  and  me,  kissed  Lu, 
zelle,  and  then  sat  down.  His  face  bore  the  marks  of 
suffering  ;  he  looked  old.  For  a  time  not  a  word  was 
spoken.  At  last  Mrs.  Osbury  broke  the'  silence. 
"  You  must  have  some  supper,"  she  said. 

"  No,  I  ate  before  Laving  Emryville.  Did  that  nig 
ger  bring  old  Tom  and  the  buggy  back  all  right  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Has  my  colt  been  taken  care  of  ?  " 

"  I  have  curried  him  every  day,"  the  Colonel  an» 
s-vered. 

"  Are  they  done  laying  by  corn  ?  " 

"Not  yet." 

He  remained  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  with 
en  effort,  attempted  to  tell  us  something  with  regard  to 
himself,  but  he  broke  down.  No  one  spoke.  We 
knew  that  it  was  better  to  let  him  take  his  own  time. 
At  last  he  said  : 

"  I  —  we  went  to  Louisville  from  here  and  then  went 
to  Cincinnati.  We  put  up  at  a  hotel,  and  as  I  didn't 
have  much  money  —  I  had  sworn  that  I  wouldn't  write 
home  for  any  —  I  began  to  look  around  for  something 
to  do.  Ella  —  I  reckon  that  may  be  her  name  —  gave 
me  a  good  deal  of  encouragement  at  first,  but  kept  on 
urging  me  to  write  home  for  money.  One  evening 
when  I  went  to  the  hotel  I  was  happv.  I  had  got  a 
place  in  a  grocery  house.  I  threw  open  the  door  and 
rushed  into  the  room.  Ella  was  gone.  On  the  table  I 
found  this  letter.  Read  it,  Mr.  Burwood." 

I  took  the  paper  and  read  the  following: 

3&Y  £>EAR  MR.  OsBURY:    I  have  done  a  great  wrong,  and  am  sorry  fa* 


KENTUCKY  COLONEl*  89 

ft,  and  this  acknowledgment  is  the  nearest  I  can  come  toward  righting  it 
I  did  not  expect  such  treatment  at  your  home — cold  and  cruel  even  before 
that  old  fossil  recognized  and  denounced  me.  It  is  useless  for  me  to  live 
with  you.  I  thought  thav  your  people  were  wealthy,  and  that  I  should  be 
Well  received;  at  least  aftei  It  was  seen  that  you  were  devoted  to  me.  My 
departure  is  the  best  for  u*  both.  I  cannot  afford  to  worry  along  with  a 
man  who  has  to  work  for  &  living.  I  suppose  every  woman  appreciates 
love;  but  love  in  a  cooped-up  room,  with  a  brick  wall  for  scenery,  with  an 
outlandish  chambermaid  as  an  occasional  visitor,  soon  grows  to  be  tiresome. 
I  am  sorry  for  you,  for  I  believe  that  you  are  an  honest  and  well-meaning 
boy.  I  like  your  brightness  and  your  exuberance  of  hope,  but  I  am  no 
longer  a  child.  Please  do  not  attempt  to  follow  me.  I  am  not  given  to 
gush,  yet  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  may  forgive  me.  ELLA. 

Not  a  word  of  comment  was  spoken  when  I  had 
finished  reading  the  letter.  We  sat  in  the  silence. 
The  clock  struck  one.  Mrs.  Osbury  spoke', 

"  Fred,  your  room  remains  just  as  you  left  it*" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CAME  WITH  A  GRACEFUL  SWING. 

SEPTEMBER  came  with  a  russet  glow.  The  corn 
fields  were  turning  brown,  and  the  rag-weeds  were 
rank  where  the  watermelons  had  grown.  Yellow- 
jackets  and  honey-bees  buzzed  about  the  cider-press 
in  the  orchard,  and  the  negro  boy,  who  had  added  a 
pair  of  cottonade  trousers  to  his  wardrobe,  lay  under 
an  apple  tree  and  played  with  a  lazy  dog.  The  quails, 
no  longer  mated,  had  organized  themselves  into  social 
istic  flocks,  and  the  melancholy  dove  sat  on  the  stack- 
pole  where  the  wheat  had  been  threshed.  When  the 
sun  went  down,  the  hungry  hog,  squealing  in  response 
to  the  "  pig-oo-e-e  "  of  the  negro  who  carried  a  sack  of 
corn,  ran  precipitously  through  the  woods. 

Shortly  after  Fred's  return  it  was  decided  that  it 
would  be  better  for  him  to  travel,  and,  not  caring  to  go 
abroad,  he  went  to  California.  He  did  not,  except  on 
one  occasion,  speak  to  me  of  his  unfortunate  mar 
riage,  and  that  was  on  the  morning  of  his  departure. 
He  had  come  into  my  room,  and  had  begun  to  tap, 
with  a  comb,  on  the  marble  slab  of  the  bureau,  and, 
recalling,  as  I  could  see,  the  time  when  he  had  first 
told  me  of  the  girl,  turned  about  with  his  old  air  of  em 
barrassment,  and  said: 

"  Of  course  I  was  a  fool,  Mr.  Burwood,  to  fall  fa 


4  K&NTVCKY  COLONMl*  gi 

love  with  a  woman  so  much  older  than  I  am;  but  I 
reckon  it's  about  as  natural  for  a  young  fellow  to  fall  in 
love  with  a  woman  older  than  he  is  as  it  is  for  an  old 
man  to  fall  in  love  with  a  young  girl.  I  am  glad  to  see 
mother  all  right  again.  Oh,  we'll  forget  all  about  it  pretty 
soon.  There  wasn't  any  need  of  getting  a  divorce  — 
didn't  seem  so  to  me,  when  we  didn't  even  know  the 
real  name  of  the  woman — but  I  thought  it  was  better  to 
let  pa  and  ma  have  their  way." 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  begone?"  I  asked. 

"  I  hardly  know,  but  I  reckon  111  knock  around  out 
there  as  long  as  I  find  anything  to  interest  me." 

The  "  History  of  Shellcut  County  "was  making  very 
fair  progress;  and,  traversing  the  many  unforeseen  by 
paths  that  ran  in  the  direction  of  an  interesting  general 
result,  we  had,  in  the  production  of  manuscript,  gone 
far  beyond  the  Colonel's  original  design.  The  old 
gentleman  seemed  to  think  there  could  not  be  too  much 
so  long  as  the  matter  was  interesting,  while  I,  well 
pleased  with  the  employment,  offered  no  advice  that 
might  tend  toward  the  shortening  of  my  engagement. 

One  Saturday  afternoon,  when  a  spirit  of  doze  per 
vaded  the  house,  I  went  out  and  sat  under  the  lilacs  in 
the  garden.  I  heard  voices,  and  looking  up,  saw 
Luzelle  and  Boyd  Savely  coming  toward  me.  He  was 
surely  a  graceful  fellow.  What  an  easy  swing — what 
an  undisturbed  air,  an  air  of  perfect  confidence  in  self, 
He  was  dressed  in  gray  and  still  wore  his  broad-britn 
white  hat. 

"Ho,  Burwood,"he  said,  coming  forward  and  ex 
tending  his  hand.  We  shook  hands,  and,  seating 


p2  ^  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

himself  beside  me,  he  took  off  his  hat,  threw  it  on  the 
ground  and  clasped  his  hands  back  of  his  head. 

"  You  are  polite,"  Luzelle  remarked. 

*  Excuse  me,"  he  replied,  moving  closer  to  me. 
"  Sit  down. " 

"  No,  I  prefer  to  stand." 

"  All  right.  Stand  up,  as  the  fellow  said,  and  grow 
taller.  How  are  you  getting  along  with  the  book, 
Burwood?" 

"  Very  well." 

"  Pretty  tiresome,  ain't  it?" 

"  No;  the  interest  I  take  in  it  relieves  the  work  oi 
weariness." 

"  Wouldn't  in  my  case,"  he  rejoined.  "  I  don't  know 
of  anything  more  tiresome  than  scratching  with  a  pen; 
and  I  have  often  wondered  how  Hammonds  manages 
to  keep  from  grabbing  up  a  pair  of  scissors  or  some 
thing  and  sousing  'em  in  his  throat,  having  to  hump 
himself  over  the  'said '  and  the  '  aforesaid '  and  the 
*  range  north/  '  section  so-and-so/  and  the  '  to-wit ' 
business  from  morning  till  night.  I  want  to  be  out  in 
the  open  air,  me  ;  I  want  to  ride  a  good  hoss  and  hear 
the  hounds  run." 

"  And  you  are  quite  as  much  opposed  to  reading  as 
you  are  to  writing,"  said  Luzelle. 

"  YouVe  hit  it/'  Savely  rejoined.  "  A  book  always 
looks  tired  to  me.  Makes  me  think  of  some  feller  shut 
up  in  a  hot  room  scratching  away  for  dear  life,  when 
he  might  be  on  some  cool  hillside  listening  to  the 
young  birds  recite  their  lessons." 

"  Why,    you    are    almost    sentimental! " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


93 


exclaimed.  "  You  tempt  me  to  call  you  a  voiceless 
poet." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"  Why,  a  poet  who  feels  the  power  of  music,  but  who 
does  not  sing'. " 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  got  any  objections  to  music,  but  no 
body  ever  heard  me  try  to  sing. " 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  said,  "  and  I  know 
now  that  your  reference  to  the  young  birds  reciting 
their  lessons  was  merely  an  accident." 

"  No,  not  much  of  an  accident.  I  heard  your 
brother  Henry  say  something  of  the  kind,  and  hap 
pened  to  remember  it.  This  sort  of  weather  makes 
me  lazy." 

"  The  year  is  in  its  ripened  mood,"  she  answered. 
"  Having  sown  its  spring  follies  and  committed  its 
summer  errors,  it  is  now  lying  on  a  bed  of  dry  grass, 
brooding  in  regret." 

"  Bah,"  he  replied,  unclasping  his  hands  and  shoving 
them  deep  into  his  pockets.  Luzelle,  looking  at  me, 
laughingly  remarked: 

"  That  is  the  way  he  treats  all  of  my  little  efforts  at 
imagery." 

"Imagery, "he  answered,  again  clasping  his  hands 
back  of  his  head.  "  Is  that  what  you  call  it?  Now, 
who  ever  saw  a  year  sowing  spring  follies  and  com 
mitting  summer  errors?  Who  ever  saw  a  year  lying 
on  a  bed  of  dry  grass?  " 

;*  You  have  not,  doubtless,  but  that  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  ridicule  me.  You  are  so  cross  to-day,  Boyd, 
that  there  is  no  getting  along  with  you.  Everything 


54  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

displeases  you.  I  won't  talk  to  you  any  more  until 
you  have  learned  to  treat  me  with  more  courtesy." 

She  bowed  to  Savely,  and  turned  toward  the  house. 

"  Come  back,  Luzelle,"  he  cried,  starting  from  his 
seat.  "  Come  back,  please.  I  didn't  mean  anything." 

She  did  not  stop;  she  made  no  reply.  Savely 
sat  down,  shook  back  his  hair,  and  remarked  that  it 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  her  act  that  way. 
"  Women  are  curious,  anyhow,"  said  he.  "  A  man 
never  knows  when  he  has  pleased  them." 

"  But  he  generally  knows  when  he  has  displeased 
them,"  I  ventured  to  assert.  The  tone  of  my  voice 
must  not  have  been,  at  that  moment,  suited  to  his  ear, 
for,  slowly  turning  his  head,  he  bent  a  cold  and  search 
ing  gaze  upon  me. 

"  She  had  no  cause  to  be  displeased,"  he  said. 
"  She  has  been  acquainted  with  me  long  enough  to 
know  that  I  wouldn't  hurt  her  feelings  for  anything." 

"  We  sometimes  wound  a  lifelong  friend  with  a 
word  which  would  have  no  effect  upon  a  mere  ac 
quaintance,  "  I  rejoined.  "  Sensitiveness  is  often  one  of 
the  whims  of  close  friendship." 

"  But  I  didn't  wound  he'r." 

"  Not  intentionally,"  I  replied. 

"  Yes,  and  no  other  way,  either." 

"  She  evidently  thinks  so." 

"  Now,  look  here,  what  have  you  got  to  do  with  it?'' 

"  Nothing. " 

"  Seems  like  it." 

"  I  didn't  speak  of  it  until  you  addressed  me  on  the 
subject. " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  95 

M  Yes,  ana  you  were  devilish  anxious  to  have  me 
address  you,  I  can  tell  you  that." 

"  Of  course,  you  can  tell  me  that,  and  you  can  tell 
me  many  other  things,  some  of  which  I  should  think 
are  not  true." 

He  caught  his  breath  with  a  quick  gasp,  and,  glaring 
at  me,  replied: 

"  You  mean,  then,  to  call  me  a  liar  !  " 

"  When  I  mean  to  say  that  you  are  a  liar  I'll  say 
it,  and  in  so  clear  a  way,  too,  that  there  can  be  no 
mistake." 

"  Well,  now,  if  you  insinuate  that  I  am  a  liar  I  want 
to  tell  you  that -" 

"Oh,  Burwood,"  the  Colonel  called.  "Ah,  here 
you  are  in  your  favorite  seat.  How  are  you,  Boyd  ?" 

"  So  so,"  Savely  answered. 

"  How's  all  ?"  the  Colonel  asked. 

"All  well,  I  believe." 

"  Burwood,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  have  just  thought 
of  a  thing  that  we  can  write  down  between  now 
and  supper-time.  Suppose  we  go  and  do  it.  Come 
on,  Boyd." 

The  Colonel  and  I  went  into  the  library;  Savely 
strode  into  the  parlor.  I  studied  the  Colonel's  face? 
to  determine  whether  or  not  his  arrival  had  been  a 
planned  intervention,  but  was  soon  satisfied  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  quarrel. 

At  the  supper  table  I  saw,  and  regretfully,  too,  I 
must  admit,  that  Savely  and  Luzelle  had  covered  up, 
with  the  rose-leaves  of  reconciliation,  the  memory  of 
their  little  difference.  Savely  did  not  speak  to  me 


96  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 

during  the  meal,   but  more   than  once   I  felt  that  his 
cold  gray  eyes  were  turned  upon  me. 

After  supper,  Major  Eli  Hammonds  and  Captain 
Joe  Jinny  came  over,  a  visit  consoling  (to  me,  at  least) 
in  the  fact  that  it  did  not  include  the  author  of  "  The 
Baron's  Daughter;  or,  The  Whispering  Duke,"  for,  not 
having  read  the  story,  I  was  ill-fitted  to  give  my  opinion 
of  it.  I  had  seen  her  several  times  since  I  had  promised 
to  give  an  honest  criticism  of  her  performance,  and  on 
each  occasion  she  had  persistently  urged  me  to  throw 
aside  all  less  important  employment  and  to  give  my 
self  up  to  a  reading  which  she  knew  I  should  find 
elevating  if  not  ennobling.  There  was  something  else 
with  which  I  was  pleased  :  Savely  soon  took  his  de 
parture.  Hammonds  brought  his  fiddle,  having  heard 
that  I  was  fond  of  music,  and,  immediately  after  I  had 
shaken  hands  with  him,  he  seized  his  whiskers,  spurted 
a  yellow  streak  into  the  fire-place,  and  then  began  to 
play  a  writhing  tune,  which  he  termed  "  Whip  the 
Devil."  I  soon  discovered  that "  Whipping  the  Devil" 
was  as  far  as  he  had  gone  in  the  direction  of  musical 
accomplishment.  He  argued,  I  afterward  learned, 
that  no  man  could  master  more  than  one  thoroughly 
good  piece,  and  that,  instead  of  flirting  with  the  many 
new  and  shallow  airs  of  composers  who  understood  the 
ways  of  society  better  than  they  comprehended  the 
melodies  of  true  mus'c,  he  would  devote  himself  to  that 
grand  old  tune,  "  Whip  the  Devil,"  composed  by  an 
old  Virginian  who  afterward  wrote  that  pathetic  song, 
"  Dancing  in  the  New  Ground,"  and  who,  Hammonds 
sorrowfully  told  me,  was  killed  by  an  old  family  horse, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


97 


"Colonel,"  said  Hammonds,  when,  to  the  relief  of 
as  all,  he  had  put  down  his  fiddle,  "  that  corn  you 
declared  would  undoubtedly  be  caught  by  the  frost  is 
in  '  rosen  ears  '  now.  Had  a  fine  mess  to-day,  and  I'll 
tell  you  that  late  corn,  fried  in  bacon  grease,  is  about 
as  fair  article  of  diet  as  you  can  strike." 

"  Yes,"  the  Colonel  answered,  "  but  eating  corn  in 
the  fall  seems  like  trying  to  reach  back  after  a  departed 
season.  I  am  a  little  peculiar  in  that  regard,  and  to 
me  new  sweet  potatoes  are  not  of  good  flavor  until 
fodder-pulling  time." 

Jinny  had  begun  to  twist  about  in  his  chair.  "  Eli," 
said  he,  "  if  you  was  in  Norfolk  to-night,  what  would 
you  order?  " 

"Well,  Joe " 

"  By  the  way,"  the  Colonel  broke  In,  "  there  is  a 
considerable  revival  going  on  at  Mt.  Zion.  Yes,  and, 
Burwood,  you  must  go  up  there.  It  is  an  old  log 
church,  situated  up  on  the  ridge.  There  you  will  find 
a  characteristic  lot  of  people,  very  different  from  the 
people  down  here.  They  are  what  we  call  over-ridgers, 
and  nearly  all  of  them  live  from  hand  to  mouth.  I 
have  known  some  of  them  to  neglect  corn  that  was 
suffering  for  work,  and  haul  four  cross-ties  ten  miles  to 
a  railroad  and  sell  them  for  fifteen  cents  apiece." 

"  Pretty  hard  lot,"  said  Jinny.  "They  wear  dingy 
brown  jeans,  and  are  never  so  happy  as  when  they  are 
eating  fried  bacon  and  drinking  coffee  without  sugar. 
They  don't  know  what  it  is  to  live.  Do  they,  Eli?  " 

"  No;  don't  know  the  first  principle.  Well,  Joe, 
talk  about  living  like  a  king,  if  you  was  in  Nor—" 


9 g  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Major,  I  received  a  letter  from  Fred  to-day,"  Mrs. 
Osbury  remarked  with  timely  interruption. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  California,  enjoying  himself  very  well." 

"  You  have  never  heard  anything  from  the  woman, 
have  you?" 

A  shadow  crossed  Mrs.  Osbury's  face.  "  No,"  she 
said,  "  not  a  word." 

"  I  heard  that  we  are  to  have  a  wedding  in  this 
neighborhood  pretty  soon,"  Jinny  declared,  bestowing 
a  sort  of  fat  smile  on  Luzelle. 

"  Who?"  Hammonds  asked. 

"  Oh,  somebody  not  a  thousand  miles  from  here. 
By  the  way,  Colonel,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Mickle- 
burg  bank  robbery  ?  " 

"  Quite  a  financial  transaction,"  the  Colonel  an 
swered.  "  The  snatching  of  $20,000  out  of  a  Ken 
tucky  bank  never  fails  to  create  a  sensation.  Have 
they  discovered  any  clew?" 

"  None  at  all." 

"Ain't  it  about  time  to  have  some  more  music?" 
Hammonds  asked,  reaching  after  his  fiddle. 

"  Yes,"  the  Colonel  answered,  pretending  not  to 
have  noticed  Hammonds'  threatening  motion.  "  Lu 
zelle,  play  something." 

She  played,  and  Hammonds  sat  cross-legged,  pat 
ting  with  one  foot.  "  That  is  very  fine,"  said  he,  when 
the  music  had  ceased.  "  Mighty  fine;  still,  I  like  a 
fiddle  better  than  anything  else." 

"A  flute  knocks  the  fur  off  of  a  fiddle  every  clatter, " 
said  old  Buck. 


A  KEN-TUCK Y  COLONEL.  gg 

u  That's  where  you're  wrong.  A  fiddle  is  the  back 
bone  of  music." 

'*  Yes,  but  not  the  soul,"  old  Buck  declared. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that.  A  flute,  now,  is 
all  wind." 

"And  a  fiddle  is  all  scratch." 

"  But,"  Jinny  broke  in,  "  if  you  itched  for  music, 
wouldn't  you  rather  be  scratched  than  to  be  blowed  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  music,"  old  Buck 
replied,  with  increasing  ardor.  "  And  you  don't  know 
much  about  it  either,  Hammonds. " 

"  Come,"  said  Luzelle,  "  musicians  should  not  pro 
duce  so  much  discord." 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Hineman, "  Hammonds  remarked,  "  I  think 
I  know  quite  as  much  about  music  as  you  do." 

"  Yes,  you  think  so." 

"And  I  know  it." 

"Let  it  all  go,"  said  the  Colonel;  "let  it  all  go. 
Neither  one  of  you  knows  enough  about  music  to  hurt 
—  yourselves." 

Old  Buck  got  up,  cast  a  reproachful  look  at  the 
Colonel,  opened  the  door  with  a  vigorous  jerk,  and 
said,  "  Good  night."  Hammonds  slowly  shook  his 
head,  and,  having  been  spoken  to  by  some  one,  seized 
his  whiskers  and  spurted  another  yellow  streak  into  the 
fire-place. 

After  the  visitors  had  gone,  and  while  I  was  passing 
through  the  hall,  Luzelle,  who  had  just  come  out  of 
her  mother's  room,  called  me. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you    made   Mr.   Savely  very 


IOO  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

angry  ?  "  she  said,  glancing  back  to  see  if  any  one  were, 
near  enough  to  have  heard  the  remark. 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  But  why  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  intended  to  make  him  angry. 
What  I  said  was  in  defense  of  you." 

"  I  was  doubtless  wrong,  Mr.  Burwood.  I  haven't 
felt  well  to-day  —  have  been  nervous  and  too  much  dis 
posed  to  be  irritable.  I  am  very  sorry  you  had  any 
unpleasant  words  with  Mr.  Savely.  He  told  me  some 
time  ago  that  he  did  not  think  you  liked  him." 

"  I  did  not  suppose  he  was  so  impressionable,"  I 
answered. 

"  Oh,  he  is  not  so  dull  as  you  seem  to  believe,  and 
I  am  sure  that  he  is  not  a  man  of  intellectual  pretenses. " 

"  Or  of  intellectual  evidences,"  I  could  not  help 
replying. 

She  gave  me  a  piercing  look,  and  for  a  moment  there 
Was  in  her  eyes  an  expression  which  foreshadowed  an 
angry  response,  but,  restraining  herself,  she  quietly  said : 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  no  higher  opinion  of  him.  He 
is  either  a  strong  friend,  or,  as  you  may  one  day  dis 
cover,  an  industrious  enemy." 

"  So  am  I,  Miss  Osbury." 

"  Oh,  then,  you  and  he  may  become  closely  associ 
ated.  It  was  merely  through  kind  intention  that  I 
sought  to  warn  you;  but  since  you  take  it  so  ill,  I  shall 
dismiss  the  subject  from  my  mind.  Good  night." 

I  heard  the  bark  of  many  a  distant  dog  before  I  sank 
to  sleep.  I  had  gone  beyond  the  point  of  even  caring 
to  reason  with  myself 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  JOYFUL  HALLELUJAH. 

HENRY  OSBURY  came  from  town  early  the  next 
morning.  He  and  I  decided  to  visit  Mt.  Zion  church. 
After  breakfast  we  were  all  sitting  on  the  gallery 
(Henry  and  I  waiting  for  the  horses  to  be  brought) 
when  Jack  Gap  came  into  the  yard.  He  seemed  to  be 
slouching  under  some  heavy  load,  and  on  his  face  he 
bore  the  aspect  of  deep  sorrow.  He  came  upon  the 
gallery,  gravely  shook  hands  with  us,  and,  without 
speaking,  sat  down,  humped  himself  over,  placed  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  and  began  to  twist  his  white  cot 
ton  hat. 

"  Anything  wrong,  Gap?  "  the  Colonel  asked. 

"  Yas,  sump'n  wrong  now,  Colonel,  but  I  hope  it 
will  come  out  with  glory  an*  brightness." 

Henry  winked  at  me.  Mrs.  Osbury  appeared  to 
have  suddenly  become  deeply  interested.  I  did  not 
quite  understand  Jack  (though  I  don't  know  why  I 
should  have  been  so  stupid,  having  lived  in  North  Caro 
lina,  where  revivals  and  persimmons  ever  ripen  in  the 
fall),  but  the  next  moment  he  enlightened  me.  "  I  wuz 
struck  with  conviction  yistidy,"  he  went  on,  "  an'  all  at 
once  the  scales  fell  outen  my  eyes  an'  I  seed  myse'f  a 
sinner,  an'  I  wondered  why  I  hadn't  long  'go  been 
struck  down  ez  a  cumbunce  uv  the  ground;  but  I  am  a 


IO2  .  4-  KENTVCKY  COLONEL. 

campin'  on  the  hillside  uv  Jeruzlum,  an'  it's  night  now, 
but  I  have  faith  that  daylight  will  come  putty  soon." 

"  You  must  have  faith,"  Mrs.  Osbury  said.  "  You 
must  put  perfect  trust  in  the  Savior." 

"  Yessum,  an'  I  am  a-doin'  uv  that,  but  my  load  is 
mighty  heavy,  an'  I  am  a  shiftin'  uv  hit  frum  one 
shoulder  ter  the  tuther,  but  have  a  faith,  mam,  that  1 
will  soon  fling  it  off.  Colonel,  I  come  over  to  tell  you 
how  sorry  I  am  that  I  couldn't  keep  the  app'intment  I 
bad  with  you  day  befo'  yistidy." 

"  What  appointment,  Jack?" 

"  W'y,  when  you  let  me  have  that  twenty  dollars 
about  a  month  ago  I  'lowed  that  I'd  pay  you  shore 
day  befo'  yistidy,  but  I  didn't  have  the  money." 

"That's  all  right,  Jack." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  feel  hard  at  me." 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Jack." 

"  Wall,"  getting  up,  and,  with  both  hands,  pulling 
his  hat  down  on  his  head,  "  I  must  be  movin'.  Thar 
ain't  no  peace  on  the  face  uv  the  yeth  fur  me  now,  but 
I  have  a  'bidin'  hope,  mam,"  addressing  Mrs.  Osbury, 
"  I  feel  that  I  ain't  allus  goin'  to  be  left  in  the  wilder 
ness.  Mr.  Burwood,  air  you  a  professor  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered. 

"  Then  you  better  be  lookin'  out  fur  the  norrer  path; 
an*  you,  too,  Henry.  Wall,  I  rrust  be  goin'.  Got  to 
go  over  to  Mt.  Zion  this  mawnin',  fur  I  feel  better  thar 
than  I  do  anywhere  else.  Good-by,  all  han's. 
Colonel,  I'll  pay  that  money  ez  soon  ez  I  kin." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  Colonel,  when  Jack  had  passed 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

through   the   gate,  *  if  that   fellow  believed   I   ever 

expected  him  to  return  the  money?" 

"  Oh,  Remington,  you  must  not  be  so  severe,"  Mrs. 
Osbury  answered.  "  His  intentions  were  no  doubt 
perfectly  honest.  Henry,  now  what  are  you  laughing 
at,  my  son?" 

"  I  was  just  thinking  of  one  of  your  amusing  pecu 
liarities.  " 

"  Of  one  of  my  peculiarities!  I  didn't  know  I  had 
any." 

"  But  you  have,  and  one  of  them  is  especially  amus  • 
ing.  During  the  spring,  the  summer  and  the  winter, 
your  quiet  love  of  fun  finds  gentle  and  mischievous 
play  at  the  expense  of  the  titled  head  of  this  household. 
If  he  should  lend  money,  you  say  that  a  fraud  has  been 
practiced  upon  him;  but  in  the  fall — -in  fact,  during 
the  revival  season,  when  the  katydid's  cry  is  sad  and 
the  mourner's  bench  is  in  bloom,  you  believe  that  the 
Lord  is  inducing  people  to  become  honest." 

"  Henry,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  Is 
it  true,  Remington?" 

"  My  dear  madam,  I  refuse  to  give  my  testimony." 

"  Brother  Buck,"  she  said,  "  1  appeal  to  you." 

"  Oh,  don't  appeal  to  him,"  Henry  cried.  "  This  is 
a  sad  time  of  year  to  him." 

"  How  so?"  old  Buck  asked. 

"  Why,  it  is  too  warm  for  you  in  the  sun  and  too 
cool  in  the  shade." 

"  Oh,  you  be  blamed,  now,  Henry.  You  and  Rem 
ington  are  all  the  time  talkin'  about  me  following  the 
shade  around  the  house,  and  I  am  gettin' tired  of  it. 


IO4  A  KENTUCK  Y  COLONEL. 

What  harm  is  there  in  a  man  movin'  when  the  sun  hits 
him  on  a  hot  day?  I  attend  to  business,  I  can  tell  you 
that.  I  stay  right  here  and  don't  go  off  the  place  once 
in  six  months.  I  wanted  to  go  down  to  Louisville 
some  time  ago  to  a  reunion  of  the  Mexican  war  vet 
erans,  but  couldn't  go." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go?" 

"  I  couldn't  raise  but  twenty-five  dollars,  and  do  you 
think  that  I  want  to  go  like  an  infernal  pauper?  Rem 
ington,  you  could  have  helped  me  out  if  you  had 
wanted  to." 

"  I  gave  you  twenty-five  dollars,  all  the  money  I  had 
at  the  time/' 

"  You  could  have  raised  more.  Here  I  work  like  a 
nigger,  and  never  can  see  anything.  I  am  a  great 
mind  to  go  down  to  the  bluff  and  jump  off." 

"  It's  a  pretty  good  walk  over  to  the  bluff,"  the 
Colonel  replied,  "  but  if  you  want  to  go  I'll  hitch  up 
old  Tom  and  haul  you  over  there," 

"  Oh,  you  be  blamed,  Remington.  Working  like  a 
nigger  for  my  vidults  and  clothes  !  " 

"  Corre,  Burwood,"  said  Henry,  "  the  horses  are 
ready." 

We  rode  for  some  distance  on  the  turnpike  and  then 
came  to  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  where  the  steep  and 
winding  dirt  road  began.  Here,  at  a  bend,  called  the 
"  Devil's  Elbow,"  a  spout  spring  gurgled  through  a 
hollow  log;  there,  draped  with  dying  vines,  frowned  a 
cliff  of  soft,  yellowish  rock.  Sometimes  the  road  was 
cut  along  the  edge  of  a  solid  wall,  and  then  passed 
c>er  a  dangerous-looking  wooden  bridge,  under  which 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  1 05 

roared  a  foaming  stream.  Finally  we  came  upon  a 
level  stretch  of  land,  timbered  with  black  oak  and 
chestnut.  The  soil  was  yellow,  and  the  rotting  rail- 
fences  were  almost  hidden  by  blackberry  briars  and 
sassafras  sprouts.  Occasionally  we  passed  log  farm 
houses.  Lank  and  hump-shouldered  men,  pale  women 
with  snuff  sticks  in  their  mouths,  and  wretched-looking 
children,  came  out  and  gazed  at  us.  We  met  a  yellow- 
skinned  man,  walking  beside  a  screaking  wagon  drawn 
by  a  cow  and  a  mule.  We  asked  him  whither  he  was 
going: 

"  Coin*  to  town,"  he  answered. 

"  What  have  you  in  your  wagon?  " 

"  A  little  tanbark  an'  some  ginseng  root.  'Lowed 
I'd  go  down  an'  sell  it  fur  whut  it's  wuth." 

"  How  long,  will  it  take  you  to  make  the  trip?" 

"  'Bout  two  days,  I  reckon." 

11  How  much  money  can  you  get  for  your  load?" 

"  I  oughter  git  a  dollar  an'  a  quarter,  but  I  reckon 
they'll  jew  me  down  to  seventy-fi'  cents." 

"  Miserable  people,"  Henry  remarked  as  we  rode 
along.  "  They  don't  care  for  schools  —  they  don't  care 
for  anything  except  what  they  term  the  'needcessities* 
• — a  little  something  to  eat,  'chaw  '  and  '  dip.'  When 
that  fellow  sells  his  stuff,  he  will  buy  a  plug  of  Sunday 
tobacco  for  himself — he  c]iews  long  green  during  the 
week —  and  will  get  a  roll  of  snuff  for  his  wife  and 
daughters.  Helloa,  yonder  is  an  acquaintance." 

We  caught  up  with  a  man,  and  I  was  introduced  to 
Lark  Moss.  I  remembered  the  name,  as  he  was  one 


IO6  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

of  the  men  engaged  in  the  horse-race  which  Jack  Gap 
had  run  across  the  field  to  see. 

44  Which  way  are  you  riding,  Lark?"  Henry  asked. 

"  Wall,  I  did  intend  to  go  to  Mt.  Zion,  as  I  under 
stand  they  are  whooping  up  things  there  pretty  lively, 
but  I  reckon  I'll  turn  off  up  here  and  call  on  a  feller 
that  I  want  to  see  on  business,  and,  by  the  way,  here 
is  my  road  now. " 

He  turned  off,  and  Henry,  looking  after  him, 
remarked:  "  He  is  one  of  the  most  peculiar  fellows  in 
the  country,  and  I  want  you  to  know  him,  not  that 
you  are  likely  to  learn  anything  from  him,  but  that  he 
may  amuse  you.  He  is  a  prankish  fellow,  and  would 
stay  out  in  the  rain  all  night  that  he  might  play  a  joke 
on  somebody  at  morning.  Yonder  is  Mt.  Zion." 

We  were  nearing  an  old  meeting-house,  built  on  a 
gently  rising  knoll.  Hundreds  of  horses  were  tied  to 
the  swinging  branches  of  the  trees,  and  numerous 
wagons  had  been  driven  into  the  shade.  The  swelling 
notes  of  a  melancholy  hymn  mingled  with  the  loud 
neighing  of  the  horses,  and  occasionally  the  hoarse 
braying  of  a  mule  echoed  throughout  the  woods.  We 
tied  our  horses  and  stood  under  the  trees  near  the 
house.  A  crowd  of  men  and  boys,  some  of  them  fairly 
well  dressed,  were  standing  or  lounging  about.  Some 
of  them  were  squatted  on  the  ground,  and  others  lay  on 
shawls.  Whenever  a  man  arrived  with  a  woman  he 
coaducted  her  to  the  door  and  then  took  his  place 
under  the  trees.  The  men  were  talking  about  horses, 
and  I  particularly  noticed  one  fellow  who  went  about 
'  mouths.  Sometimes  he  would  grab 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


107 


up  the  skin  on  a  colt's  shoulder  or  lift  up  a  filly's  fore 
foot. 

"  Who's  that  a-comin'?"  one  man,  gazing  down  the 
road,  would  ask. 

"  Don't  know,"  some  fellow  would  reply;  "  looks  like 
Josh  Atkinson's  hoss." 

"  Must  'a'  swopped  lately,  then." 

"  No,  not  sence  last  spring." 

"  Yas,  that's  Josh.     Putty  good  hoss,  too." 

"  Don't  know.     Most  too  stiff  in  the  shoulders." 

Henry  drew  me  to  one  side.  "They  don't  go  into  the 
church  during  the  day,"  said  he,  "  but  at  night,  when 
mourners  are  called  up,  they  crowd  in.  The  day  sermon 
is  preparatory  to  the  great  effort  made  at  night.  Let 
us  remain  and  see  how  Gap  comes  out." 

After  the  long  sermon  was  finished,  Henry  and  I 
went  to  dinner  with  an  old  fellow  who  pressingly 
invited  us,  and,  at  "  early  candle  lighting,"  returned  to 
the  church.  An  old  man,  whose  voice  arose  into 
broken  shouts,  preached  a  short  sermon,  and  when  he 
had  concluded,  an  exhorter  got  up  to  supplement  the 
stirring  appeal.  Mourners  began  to  kneel  at  the 
bench,  and  it  was  not  long  until  we  saw  Gap  writhing 
under  his  heavy  conviction.  Some  of  the  mourners, 
almost  blasphemous  in  their  violent  importunity,  cried 
out:  "  Come  down,  sweet  speret  —  come  down  right 
now.  Lord,  I  want  you  this  minit."  "Amen," 
shouted  an  old  man  who  stood  clapping  his  hands  and 
singing. 

The  exhorter  continued  his  appeal.  "  We  want  to 
know,"  he  said  in  a  wavering  tone,  how  many  there 


!O8  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

are  in  this  congregation  to-night  that  are  on  the  Lord's 
.side.  All  that  want  to  go  to  heaven  hold  up  their 
hands."  (Numerous  hands  were  held  up.)  "Thank  God, 
there  are  many.  Oh,  this  must  be  a  night  of  rebuke 
to  old  Satan"  (Brother  in  the  corner  —  "Amen.") 
N  This  may  be  a  night  long  to  be  remembered  in  the 
golden  city. "  (Sister  in  the  corner  —  "  Lord  grant  it. ") 

By  this  time  Gap  had  become  violent.  His  moans 
were  distressing,  and  his  demands  for  immediate  relief 
were  piteous.  "  I  want  it  right  now  !  "  he  cried,  and 
one  man,  who  stood  near  me,  placed  his  hand  on  a 
brother's  shoulder  and  said  : 

"  He  looks  like  he  mout  come  through  ter-night." 

The  next  moment  Gap  sprang  to  his  feet  and  uttered 
a  startling  shout.  An  exhorter  seized  him  in  his  arms. 
Other  mourners,  thus  encouraged,  "  came  through," 
and  for  more  than  two  hours  the  woods  rang  with  cries 
of  exultation. 

As  Henry  and  I  were  riding  toward  home,  Gap  over 
took  us.  He  was  happy  in  the  singing  of  a  hallelujah 
song. 

"  I  am  all  right  now,  gentlemen/  all  right  now.  Ole 
Satan's  rope  is  done  slipped  offen  my  neck.  I  woulder 
went  up  night  afore  last,  but  the  devil  hil  me  back. 
Conviction  came  on  me  ez  I  sot  in  the  meetin'-house, 
but  jest  ez  I  got  up  ter  go  ter  the  bench  I  thought 
about  a  bottle  uv  licker  that  I  had  hid  out  under  a  log. 
I  'lowed  that  I'd  better  go  out  an'  break  that  bottle, 
an'  I  went  out.  I  tuck  out  the  bottle,  but  jest  ez  I  wuz 
about  ter  fling  it  agin  a  tree,  ole  Satan  said,  'Better 
take  a  little.'  Wall,  gentlemen,  he  had  me  an'  I  tilted 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


lOQ 


the  bottle.  Then  I  didn'  feel  like  goin'  back  into  the 
house,  but  tuck  several  more  drinks,  an'  then  went 
off  down  ter  the  spring  and  swapped  saddles  with  a 
feller  that  lives  way  over  beyant  Caney>Fork.  My 
wife  will  be  mighty  happy  when  I  go  home  ter-night, 
gentle^^^.  Go  on  here," — his  horse  had  begun  to  shy; 

— "  go  on  here,  I  tell  you.  Go  on  here,  you  d d  — 

whoa.  Gentlemen,  wait  a  minit.  I  have  drapped  my 
religion.  Wait  till  I  get  down  an'  pray  fur  it." 

"  Can't  you  wait  until  you  get  home  ?"  Henry  asked. 

"  No,  mout  be  too  late." 

"  Well,  get  down  ;  we  will  wait  for  you." 

He  dismounted,  got  down  on  his  knees  and  prayed 
with  piteous  persuasion ;  and,  again  mounting  his 
horse,  he  said :  "  It's  all  right  now,  gentlemen." 

We  rode  on  rather  briskly,  not  caring  to  hear  him 
talk  (although  he  was  undoubtedly  sincere),  but  occa« 
sionally  he  would  overtake  us  and  teil  us  how  much 
'iad  been  done  for  him. 

When  we  reached  home  the  hour  was  late,  yet  1  saw 
a  light  in  the  library  ;  and,  thinking  that  the  Colonel 
had  struck  another  "  important  recollection  that  must 
be  set  down,"  I  went  into  the  room,  having  told  Henry 
that  I  should  soon  follow  him  up-stairs.  The  Colonel 
was  not  in  the  library.  Luzelle  sat  at  my  desk.  . 

"I  have  waited  for  you,"  she  said,  arising.  My 
blood  leaped.  "  Mr.  Savely  was  here  to-day,"  she 
went  on,  "  and  he  says  that  you  must  apologize  for 
having  called  him  a  liar. " 

"  I  did  not  call  him  a  liar." 

"  He  says  you  did." 


t  IO  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  He  should  know,"  I  replied. 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  mention  this  affair  again- — I 
have  not  spoken  to  any  one  not  directly  concerned," 
she  said,  "  but  do  so  now  in  the  hope  that  trouble  may 
be  averted." 

"  I  shall  bring  about  no  trouble." 

"  You  will  apologize,  then." 

How  appealingly  beautiful  she  looked  as  she  stood 
with  the  lamplight  falling  on  her  upturned  face.  In 
admiration  of  her  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  she  was 
demanding  something  of  me.  She  touched  my  arm. 

"  No,"  I  said. 

"  He  may  challenge  you." 

"  Yes,"  I  bitterly  replied,  "  and  you  are  afraid  that 
I  might  kill  him." 

Her  eyes  flashed.  She  went  to  the  door,  and,  stand 
ing  a  moment  with  her  hand  resting  on  the  knob,  she 
bowed  slightly  and  said: 

"  As  you  please,  Mr.  Burwood.  I  shall  say  nothing 
more." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DELICATE  CONSIDERATION. 

WE  had  made  such  progress  with  our  work  that  the 
Colonel  suggested  the  advisability  of  casting  about  for 
a  publisher,  and,  for  this  purpose,  it  was  decided  that 
I  should  visit  Louisville.  The  household  was  astir 
early  one  morning  in  November.  The  servants  went 
about  carrying  lamps  into  the  store-room  and  out  into 
the  smoke-house,  and  the  dogs,  thrilled  with  the 
memory  of  many  a  raccoon  fight  at  daybreak,  trotted 
•jp  and  down  the  gallery,  whining  and  sniffing  the  air. 
The  Colonel  stirred  his  toddy,  standing  at  the  old 
brass-knobbed  sideboard  in  the  dining-room,  and  Mrs. 
Osbury,  drawn  hither  and  thither  by  suddenly-arising 
demands,  busied  herself  with  preparations  for  my  de 
parture.  She  was  afraid  that  I  might  forget  to  take  a 
comforter  to  wrap  about  my  ears,  for  she  knew  that 
the  weather  was  going  to  turn  cold,  and,  in  a  most 
delicate  way  —  I  hardly  know  how  —  she  asked  if  I  were 
sure  that  my  underclothing  was  thick  enough.  She 
knew  that  we  were  never  so  likely  to  take  cold  as  when 
we  were  away  from  home,  and  she  thought  that, 
especially  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  every  one,  just  before 
leaving  home,  should  put  on  woolen  underwear.  Old 
Buck  came  down,  declaring  that  he  hadn't  sl$pt  a 
wink,  but  he  seemed  to  recognize  the  necessity  of  tak* 


H2  A  KENTUCKY  CvzONEL. 

ing  an  "  eye-opener,"  for  he  mixed  a  long  toddy  and 
drank  it  with  a  noisy  "  swig."  Luzelle  came  into  the 
dining-room  just  as  we  sat  down  to  breakfast.  She 
spoke  to  me,  while  on  her  face  there  shone  the  faintest 
light  of  a  smile;  and  standing  near  the  fire-place  she 
held  her  hands  out  over  the  blaze.  When  she  had  sat 
down,  old  Buck  looked  straight  at  her  with  his  bulging 
eyes  (and,  indeed,  he  could  have  looked  at  her  with 
no  other  kind,  for  a  bulging  pair  was  all  he  had),  shook 
his  head  slowly,  and  remarked: 

"Ah,  Lord." 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  Uncle  Buck?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing." 

"  Why  did  you  look  at  me  so  hard  and  say,  '  Ah, 
Lord'?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  just  thinking  —  just  thinking  what  a 
difference  has  come  over  girls  since  my  day.  I  know 
when  they  used  to  be  out  of  bed  and  at  the  hand- 
loom  'way  before  day." 

"  Did  they  do  it  because  they  wanted  to  or  because 
they  had  to?" 

"  Makes  no  difference,  they  done  it." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  let  it  go.  I  know 
all  about  those  days.  I  know  that  I  used  to  plow 
before  breakfast  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  know  that  I 
look  back  on  it  now  with  a  shudder.  Never  plowed 
any,  did  you,  Buck?  " 

The  old  fellow  gave  the  Colonel  a  hard  look,  with 
his  jaws  half  open,  as  though  the  motion  of  chewing 
might  lessen  the  necessary  intensity  of  gaze,  and, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  !  \^ 

slowly  shaking  his  head,  muttered,  like  a  negro  who 
has  been  confronted  with  a  petty  theft. 

"  Remington,"  Mrs.  Osbury  whispered,  "  don't 
worry  him." 

44  I  am  sure  that,  even  if  Uncle  Buck  never  plowed 
any,  he  once  spaded  up  a  flower  bed  for  me,"  said 
Luzelle,  glancing  mischievously  at  her  father. 

"  Who  the  deuce  said  I  never  plowed  any,  missie?  " 
Buck  exclaimed.  "  I  have  plowed  so  early  at  morn 
ing  that  I  had  to  hang  lanterns  on  the  hames  so  I 
could  see  the  corn  rows." 

"  Pretty  dark  morning  that,  Buck,"  the  Colonel 
replied. 

Mrs.  Osbury  looked  up  with  a  twinkling  in  her  eyes. 
;c  Mr.  Burwood,"  said  she,  "  when  you  are  in  Louis 
ville  you  may  see  some  of  the  men  who  worked  for 
George  D.  Prentice." 

The  Colonel  winced  at  this  reminder  of  his  experience 
with  the  former  pen-servants  of  the  great  journalist, 
but,  determined  not  to  surrender  without  an  effort, 
spoke  up  as  with  the  quickness  of  sudden  recollection: 
*'  Oh,  by  the  way,  the  revival  season  is  over,  isn't  it?" 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so,  Remington?"  Mrs. 
Osbury  asked. 

"Was  I  looking  at  you?"  I  merely  happened  to 
/emember  something  Henry  said  about  the  solemn 
restrictions  you  place  on  yourself  during  the  domina 
tion  of  the  mourners' bench." 

"  Go  ahead,  Remington,  and  make  fun  of  religion 
all  you  want  to,  but  there's  coming  a  day  when  you 
will  be  sorry. 

e 


U4  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

After  breakfast  I  was  standing  on  the  gallery  waiting 
for  old  Tom  and  the  buggy,  when  Luzelle  came  out. 
She  paid  no  attention  to  me,  but,  sweeping  away  an 
entanglement  of  dead  morning-glory  vines,  she  stood, 
with  one  hand  resting  on  the  railing  of  the  "  banisters," 
gazing  far  out  over  the  hill-tops  that  were  purpling  in 
a  line  with  a  coming  flush  in  the  east.  The  purple 
brightened  and  was  then  chased  away  by  a  flash  of 
golden  light.  As  Luzelle  stood  there,  with  the  light 
of  that  new  day  falling  upon  her,  a  strange  mist 
seemed  to  float  away,  leaving  her  face  exposed 
anew  —  showing  it  to  me  as  I  had  never  before  seen  it. 
I  saw  little  defects  which  heretofore  had  escaped  my 
notice.  I  saw  that  her  upper  lip  was  too  short.  But  I 
worshiped  her  as  she  stood  there  —  worshiped  her  the 
more,  I  fancy,  for  the  marks  of  mother  earth,  which, 
becoming  visible,  had  begun  to  humanize  her  —  had 
begun  to  rob  her  of  that  indefinable  etherealism  with 
which  I  was  wont  to  enrobe  her.  Her  hair  was  tied 
back  with  a  piece  of  red  ribbon,  and  about  her 
shoulders  she  wore  a  rich  old  China  crape  shawl, 

"  This  is  the  first  sunrise  you  have  seen  for  some 
time,  is  it  not?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  the  far-away  dreaminess 
fading  from  her  eyes  as  she  turned  them  upon  me. 
"  But  I  love  the  early  morning.  It  is  always  full  of 
promise  and  hope,  with  none  of  noon's  wise  maturity 
or  of  evening's  resignation.  But  what  am  I  saying? 
You  surely  must  think  me  a  very  foolish  woman.  T© 
tell  the  truth,  I  am  inclined  to  think  so  myself.  How 
long  do  you  expect  to  be  gone?  " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  1 1  ^ 

"Two  or  three  days." 

"  Do  you  get  tired  of  the  country?"  she  asked. 

<:  Not  of  so  fine  a  country  as  this,"  I  answered;  "  a 
country  so  different  from  the  sandy  dreariness  and 
pine-bough  sighing  melancholy  of  North  Carolina. " 

"  I  have  never  cared  to  live  in  a  city,"  she  responded. 
"  I  like  every  sound  that  comes  from  the  woods,  but 
every  noise  that  comes  from  the  street  disturbs  me. 
There's  old  Tom  and  the  buggy." 

The  Colonel,  Mrs.  Osbury  and  old  Buck  came  out 
on  the  gallery. 

"  Well,  Phil,"  said  the  Colonel — it  was  the  first  time 
he  had  addressed  me  thus  — "  everything  is  about  ready, 
I  believe.  Remember,  now,  and  don't  let  those  pub 
lishers  get  the  upper  hand  of  you.  They  are  very 
shrewd  men,  I  hear  —  devilish  shrewd  —  and  you've 
got  to  keep  your  eyes  open,  or  they  will  beat  us  out 
of  our  very  boots.  Mary,  what  on  earth  have  you  got 
wrapped  up  in  that  bundle?  Is  it  a  calf  ?  " 

"  Remington,  now  what  is  the  use  of  going  on  so? 
It  is  a  lunch  for  Mr.  Burwood." 

"  What?  Do  you  think  he's  going  to  walk  and  camp 
out?" 

"  Never  mind  what  I  think.     Here,  Mr.  Burwood." 

I  knew  that  it  would  be  useless  to  protest,  so  I  took 
the  bundle  (I  actually  believe  it  contained  a  whole 
turkey  and  half  a  peck  of  biscuits),  and  was  about  to 
start  toward  the  gate,  when  Mrs.  Osbury,  with  sudden 
excitement,  commanded  me  to  wait  a  minute.  I  waited, 
and  pretty  soon  she  came  out  with  a  paper  bag  full  of 
apples.  "  Here,"  she  said,  "  you  will  want  to  give  them 


jl6  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

to  the  poor  children  you  may  happen  to  meet  along 
the  road." 

"Take  everything  she  gives  you,"  the  Colonel  re 
marked.  "  Come  on,  Phil,"  he  added,  leading  the 
way  ;  "  everybody  acts  as  if  you  were  going  off  on  a 
trip  of  exploration." 

When  I  had  taken  my  place  in  the  buggy,  the  Colonel 
called  out,  "  Don't  let  them  get  the  upper  hand  of  you, 
Phil.  Watch  them  —  watch  them,  or  they  will  down 
you." 

There  was  many  a  shiver  in  the  early  morning  air, 
but  the  door  of  Gap's  cabin  was  open,  and  the  pale 
child  sat  on  the  ground  near  the  fence.  A  stick 
lay  beside  the  little  creature.  Gap  came  out  and 
asked: 

"  Which  way  ?" 

I  told  him.  "Wall,  now,"  said  he,  "I  b'lieve  I'll 
go  to  town  with  you.  Got  business  thar. " 

41  You'll  not  do  no  sich  a  thing,"  said  his  wife,  sud 
denly  appearing  in  the  door.  "  You  danced  at  a  shin 
dig  all  night,  an'  now  you  want  to  gad  about.  You 
shaint  do  it,  that's  all  thar  is  uv  it.  Make  out  like 
you've  got  religion  an'  then  go  fiddlin'  about." 

"  Don't  reckon  I'll  go  to-day,"  said  the  husband, 
with  an  impenitent  grin.  "  Got  a  lot  uv  fiddlin' round 
ter  do.  Wall,  wush  you  good  luck  anyhow." 

The  white  turnpike  stretched  far  away  between  two 
strips  of  brown.  The  yellowhammer,  with  his  motion 
of  dip,  dip,  dip,  flew  from  far  across  the  fields,  and  the 
sparrow-hawk,  sailing  round  and  round,  kept  his  eye 
on  a  brush-pile  where  a  quail  had  alighted.  The  field 


A  KENTUCKY  COL  OT:EL: 

hands  were  gathering  corn,  and  the  boy,  forced  into 
the  merciless  work  of  keeping  up  the  "  down  row," 
muttered  profane  imprecations  against  so  joyless  a  pros 
pect.  I  did  not  hear  him,  yet  I  know  he  muttered, 
for  I  could  see  him  cast  an  almost  hopeless  glance  at 
the  sun,  wondering,  I  knew,  if  the  dinner-horn  would 
ever  blow  —  shaking  his  fist  in  the  face  of  early  morn 
ing —  holding  out  his  tired  arms  in  imploration  toward 
tardy  evening. 

As  I  came  up  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  I  saw,  just  beyond 
the  brow  of  the  eminence,  a  woman  standing  beside  a 
horse,  trying  to  buckle  the  saddle-girth.  I  soon  recog 
nized  Miss  Annie  Bumpus. 

"  Oh,  you  are  just  in  time,"  she  exclaimed  when  she 
saw  me.  "  I  can't  get  this  old  thing  right.  Now  just 
look  at  it. " 

I  got  out  and  buckled  the  girth.  "  Shall  I  help  you 
to  mount?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes  —  er  —  how  far  are  you  going?" 

"  To  Emryville." 

"  So  am  I.  Well,  would  you  just  as  soon  I  would 
ride  in  the  buggy  with  you  and  lead  my  horse?" 

I  said  yes  and  inwardly  cursed  myself  "for  having 
told  her  how  far  I  was  going. 

"  Thank  you.  I  thought  you  would  like  to  have 
company.  Let  me  see  now.  You  can  tie  my  bridle- 
rein  to  that  rod  so  I  won't  be  bothered;  that's  it.  Oh, 
how  much  more  comfortable  this  is.  How  are  all  the 
people  —  the  d'ar  old  Colonel  and  all  of  them?  Look 
out,  you'll  run  down  in  there,"  pointing  at  a  wash-out 
and  attempting  to  seize  the  lines.  "  Well,  you  didn't, 


1 1 8  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

did  you?  I  don't  see  why  they  don't  fill  those  places 
up  just  as  soon  as  they  occur.  You  haven't  told  me 
how  all  the  folks  are. " 

"  You  haven't  given  me  time." 

"  I  suppose  I  do  go  on  at  a  terrible  rate.  Mother 
used  to  compare  me  to  a  rattle-trap,  but  I  know  I'm 
not  that  bad.  When  did  you  see  Captain  Jinny?" 

"  I  met  him  on  the  pike  several  days  ago  as  he  was 
coming  from  town." 

"  Oh,  he's  charming,  isn't  he?  Such  nobility  of  ex 
pression.  What  a  pity  he  lost  his  —  his  foot.  He  and 
Major  Hammonds  are  great  friends.  Oh,  Major  is  a 
splendid  man.  He  and  the  Captain  go  to  town  every 
morning,  and  come  back  every  evening.  Must  be  de 
lightful,  spending  so  much  time  in  the  open  air.  When 
did  they  hear  from  Fred?" 

"  They  hear  from  him  every  now  and  then." 

"  There  isn't  much  to  Fred.  Oh,  he's  a  good  boy, 
but  he  hasn't  much  force.  How  do  you  like  Luzelle?" 

"  Very  well,"  I  answered. 

"  Oh,  such  a  nice  girl,  but  she's  got  her  faults.  She 
gits  real  mad  at  me  sometimes.  She  always  was  curi 
ous  that  way.  If  I  only  had  possessed  as  many 
opportunities  as  she  has  thrown  away,  you  better  be 
lieve  I  would  have  improved  them. " 

"  What  opportunities  has  she  thrown  away?" 

Oh,  I  don't  know  how  many.  She  could  have 
gone  to  Europe  and  studied  art,  and  I  don't  know  what 
all.  I  don't  believe  in  contentment,  myself.  I  don't 
think  we  ought  ever  to  stop  trying  to  mount  higher 
and  higher.  Now,  there's  Henry  Osbury.  What's  he 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


1.19 


trying  to  do?  Nothing  on  the  top  side  or' earth.  Got 
plenty  of  sense,  mind  you,  but  doesn't  seem  to  care 
for  anything.  It's  '  come  day,  go  day/  with  him." 

"  Is  Captain  Jinny  making  many  efforts  toward  doing 
anything?  "  I  asked. 

"  Captain  Jinny,"  she  said,  bowing  and  making  a 
noise  by  sucking  her  lips,"  is  a  much  deeper  man  than 
people  give  him  credit  for  being.  Of  course,  he 
doesn't  make  any  great  efforts,  but  whenever  he  sets 
out  to  do  a  thing  he  does  it." 

I  was  thankful  when  we  came  within  sight  of  the 
county  seat,  and,  fearful  that  my  companion,  having 
much  more  information  to  deliver,  might,  recognizing 
the  short  remainder  of  our  journey,  attempt  to  hold 
me  back  in  order  to  complete  the  volume,  I  whipped 
up  old  Tom  and  was  soon  driving  along  the  main 
street;  but,  after  all,  I  was  too  late  for  the  morning 
train. 

"  Take  me  to  Captain  Jinny's  and  hitch  my  horse  for 
me,  and  I  will  be  ever  so  much  obliged,"  said  Miss 
Bumpus.  "  Yonder  is  the  place,  right  on  the  corner, 
by  that  elm  tree." 

I  complied  with  her  wishes,  and,  without  going  in 
to  see  the  watch-repairer,  drove  old  Tom  to  a  livery 
stable  (one  having  been  recently  established),  and  than 
started  out  to  find  Henry  Osbury.  To  find  him  was 
not  difficult,  for,  above  the  door  of  a  small,  old  and 
dingy  brick  office,  I  saw  a  sign  bearing  the  words, 
"  Henry  Osbury,  Real  Estate  Agent."  The  door  was 
open,  and  I  saw  Henry,  leaning  back,  with  his  feet  on 
a  table.  When  he  saw  me  he  wheeled  about,  at  the 


120  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

risk  of  demolishing  his  split-bottom  chair,  and,  spring 
ing  to  his  feet  with  as  great  activity  as  I  supposed  he 
was  capable  of  exercising,  he  seized  me  with  both 
hands.  When  we  had  sat  down,  and  while,  in  his 
half-drawling  voice,  he  was  telling  me  how  pleased  he 
was  to  see  me,  I  looked  around  to  take  stock  of  his 
quarters.  In  the  center  of  the  room  there  was  an  old 
table,  covered  with  faded  green  baize;  and  over  the 
table  were  scattered  books  and  quill  pens.  An  old 
map  hung  on  the  wall,  and  on  a  sort  of  wash-stand, 
immediately  under  the  map,  there  was  a  small  globe. 
These  two  articles,  together  with  the  uncarpeted  and 
unswept  floor,  were  all  the  real  estate  suggestions 
which  the  room  contained.  Shelves  were  filled  with 
books,  the  corners  of  the  room  were  loaded  with 
books  —  there  were  books  everywhere.  He  had  sober 
books  in  dark  cloth,  and  frowning  books  in  heavy 
leather.  He  had  flimsy  books  in  paper  covers  and 
sensational-looking  books  in  red. 

"  Do  you  write  with  a  quill?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  puffing  away  at  his  briar-root 
pipe.  "  Its  screak  is  a  sort  of  companionship  when  I 
am  writing.  I  suppose  I  am  a  sort  of  old  fogy,  any 
way.  I  am  getting  pretty  well  along;  am  ten  years 
older  than  Fred.  There  were  two  children  older  than 
Fred  and  younger  than  I  —  died  early.  " 

"  Oh,  Osbury,"  said  a  man,  poking  his  head  in  at  the 
door,  "  have  you  got  a  blank  deed?" 

"  No,  believe  not,"  Henry  answered,  without  look- 
round.  A  real  estate  office  without  a  blank  deed! 

"  You  have  quite  a  collection  of  books,"  said  I. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  I  2 1 

"  Yes,  they  are  coming  in  slowly.  I  am  not  a  bib 
liomaniac,  however.  Thai  is,  I  don't  set  great  value 
upon  rare  editions.  To  me  the  latest  edition  is  just  as 
good  as  the  first,  for,  in  the  matter  of  binding,  I  take 
just  as  much  interest  in  the  green  grass  of  newness  as 
I  do  in  the  dry  moss  of  age.  I  do  not  value  a  friend 
simply  because  he  wears  old  clothes." 

"  I  suppose  fiction  claims  a  large  share  of  your  atten 
tion." 

11  Yes,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "  I  am  an  idler  rather 
than  a  student." 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  I,  taking  up  "  Middlemarch," 
14  that  we  are  merely  idlers  when  we  sit  down  with 
Geofge  Eliot." 

"  Burwood,  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that.  Of  all 
writers  of  English  fiction  she  is  my  favorite.  I  care 
not  if  she  does  attempt  to  drag  in  her  philosophy;  she 
makes  me  breathe  a  pure  air,  blowing  from  the  orch 
ard  where  the  apple  trees  are  in  bloom.  Her  peop  e 
live.  They  are  amusing  without  being  caricatures,  and 
are  pathetic  without  committing  violence  upon  our 
sympathies.  What  a  contrast  between  Eliot  and  Bul- 
wer  Lytton!  When  I  read  Bulwer  I  see  a  room  where 
there  is  much  cut  glass  and  where  there  is  some  one 
rubbing  a  brass  fender;  but,  turning  to  Eliot,  I  see  a 
girl  with  a  thoughtful  face,  looping  up  the  rose-bushes 
in  the  garden." 

He  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  took  up  a  cigar- 
box,  raked  his  pipe  about  in  it,  filled  the  bowl  with 
natural  leaf,  struck  a  match  on  the  under  side  of  the 


122  A  KENTUCKY  COL  ON&L. 

table,  and,  while   waiting  for  the  sulphur  t©  burn  off 
the  match,  said: 

"  Of  course  I  like  American  writers  —  as  a  general 
thing  I  like  them  best  —  but  I  don't  think  " — he 
paused  until  he  had  lighted  his  pipe — "don't  think 
that  any  new  writer  could  arise  and  loosen  Eliot's  hold 
on  me.  I  cannot  explain  the  fascination.  Come  in." 
A  man  had  stepped  up  into  the  doorway. 

11  Is  this  Mr.  Osbury?" 

"  Yes,  sit  down." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  making  some  investments 
in  this  neighborhood,  and  was  told  in  Louisville  that 
you  would  doubtless  be  the  proper  man  for  me  to 
see." 

"  Ah,  hah.      What  sort  of  investment?" 

"  I'd  like  to  buy  a  small  farm  near  this  place." 
How  long  will  you  be  in  town?" 

"  I  want  to  get  away  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  I  am  very  busy  just  at  present.  I  should 
like  *to  sell  you  a  tract  of  land,  but  all  that  I  have  lies 
some  distance  from  here.  It  would  take  at  least  a  day 
to  go  out  there  and  look  at  it.  By  the  way,  J.  W. 
Haleworth  &  Co. — just  across  the  public  square  —  are 
large  dealers,  and  are  throughly  trustworthy.  If  you 
cannot  stay  until  I  have  time  to  go  out  with  you,  why, 
you  might  call  on  them." 

"Well,  I  believe  I'll  do  so." 

"  All  right.  Let's  see,  what  were  we  talking  about?" 
Henry  asked  when  the  man  was  gone.  "  Oh,  yes,  I 
was  going  on  to  acknowledge  my  inability  to  analyze 
the  fascination  Eliot  has  for  me.  But  I  suppose  that 


1 

A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

in  this  very  inability  lies,  to  me,  her  chief  charm;  for 
analysis  is  the  dagger  that  lets  the  life-blood  out  of 
fiction's  heart.  Analyze  a  passion — pick  it  to  pieces, 
and  it  blows  away.  We  must  not  analyze  an  oil  paint 
ing,  but  must  be  satisfied  with  art  —  with  deception, 
for  all  art  has  been  termed  sublime  deception." 

"  Do  you  transact  any  business  at  all?  "  I  asked, 
breaking  a  silence  which  followed  Henry's  latest 
remark. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  do.  But  I  didn'  t  care  to  have  any 
dealings  with  that  man  who  came  here  just  now.  He 
carried  the  imprint  of  the  bore;  and  I  saw  at  a  glance 
that  nothing  would  please  him  better  than  to  ride  all 
day  and  talk  land.  I  do  not  purpose  to  give  an  entire 
day  of  my  life  to  such  a  man  —  to  such  a  rasping; 
unjuicy  fellow  —  even  though  it  might  result  in  selling 
a  tract  of  .and." 

"  By  the  way,"  I  asked,  taking  up  a  copy  of  the 
Venerable  East  Magazine ,  "  have  you  read  any  of  Elvis 
Wigglesworth's  poetry?" 

"  I  have  read  some  of  his  rhyme,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  you  don't  regard  it  as  poetry?" 

"  No;  it  is  simply  a  clever  construction  of  verse, 
admirable  in  mechanical  exactness,  but  lacking  in 
that  warm  grasp,  that  throbbing  intensity  of  true 
poetry.  I  don't  want  a  poem  to  smile  merely,  and 
shake  its  false  hair  in  an  attempt  to  make  an  impress 
ive  bow.  I  want  a  poem  to  seize  me  with  a  thrilling 
grasp  and  breathe  hot  meter  in  my  face.  Say,  old 
fellow,  there  will  not  be  another  train  until  ten  o'clock 
to-night.  It  is  rather  bad  that  you  missed  the  other 


124 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


one,  but  still  I  am  glad  of  it.  After  dinner  we  will 
amuse  ourselves  by  calling  at  the  different  departments. 
"  Look  yonder  "  (pointing  toward  the  court-house). 
"  There  they  sit,  talking  about  horses  and  women. 
They  are  sitting  in  the  sun  now,  and  will  continue  to 
do  so  until  along  in  the  spring.  Then  they  will  follow 
the  shade.  I  don't  know  how  those  fellows  live.  They 
have  no  profession  —  no  business,  yet  they  dress  pretty 
well  and  manage  to  buy  the  first  watermelons  of  the 
season.  Now,  as  regards  dinner,  we'll " 

"  Hold  on,"  said  I.  "  Your  mother  put  up  an  elab 
orate  basket  picnic,  a  sack  of  apples  included,  and 
compelled  me  to  leave  home  thus  provisioned.  I  was 
to  give  the  apples  to  poor  children  along  the  road,  but 
I  either  failed  to  see  the  children,  or  there  were  none. 
I  left  the  outfit  in  the  buggy-box.  Why  not  get  it  and 
have  luncheon  here  in  the  office  ?  " 

"  The  very  thing  !  "  Henry  exclaimed.  "  Rather 
have  it  than  any  set  dinner  that  could  be  raked  to^ 
gether  in  this  town.  You  stay  here,  and  I  will  go 
round  to  the  stable." 

Just  after  Henry  had  gone,  Lark  Moss  came  in, 
hurriedly.  "Mr.  Burwood  !  "  he  said,  excitedly, 
"  there  is  a  drunken  fellow  out  here,  and  he  swears  that 
he  is  going  to  kill  you!  He  imagines  that  you  have 
done  him  a  wrong.  By  gracious,  there  is  not  a  closet 
or  anything  for  you  to  get  in." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  wants  to  kill  me  ?  "  I  ex 
claimed. 

Oh,   he   says  so  — has    been  watching  the   house 
ever  since  you  came  in." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Look  here,  Moss,  I  don't  want  to  be  shot." 

"  No,  to  be  sure,  but  he's  going  to  do  it." 

"  Where  is  the  town  marshal  ?  " 

"Oh,  he's  off  playing  cards  somewhere.  If  I  had  a 
pistol  I'd  give  it  to  you  and  let  you  go  out  there  and 
kill  him,  but  I  haven't  got  a  thing.  My  gracious,  he's 
coming"  (looking  out).  "Both  barrels  of  his  gun 
cocked.  Get  up  the  chimney,  Burwood,  and  I'll  swear 
that  you  are  not  here.  The  fool  has  taken  it  into  his 
head  that  you  are  the  judge  who  once  sentenced  him 
to  the  penitentiary." 

I  was  uneasy — was  scared,  and  I  doubt  not  that  I 
should  have  attempted  to  squeeze  myself  into  the 
chimney,  had  I  not  suddenly  recalled  Henry's  remark 
relative  to  Moss'  love  of  joking.  Then  I  turned  upon 
the  young  man  and  closely  studied  his  face,  but,  seeing 
no  sign  of  mischief — seeing  nothing  but  deep  serious 
ness —  I  was  about  to  yield,  when,  influenced  to  make 
a,  hopeful  experiment,  I  said  : 

"  Moss,  you  are  a  skillful  joker." 

A  mischievous  light  broke  on  his  face,  but,  unwilling 
to  surrender,  he  continued  to  talk  of  the  fellow  with 
the  shot-gun. 

"  You  can't  fool  me,  Moss.  You  did  for  a  few 
^noments,  but  I  understand  you  now." 

Then  he  threw  up  his  hands  and  shouted.  He  sat 
down,  and  was  almost  strangled.  He  laughed  against 
the  wall,  leaning  on  the  table,  walking  up  and  down 
the  room — laughed  with  his  head  thrown  back  and 
laughed  with  his  head  bowed  over;  and,  as  I  looked 


126  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

at  him,  I  mused ;  "  Old  fellow,  I  will  get  even  with 
you  for  this. " 

Moss  went  away,  still  tittering,  and  I  was  standing 
in  the  door,  musing  over  his  peculiar,  his  ghastly  idea 
of  humor,  when  Henry  returned. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  we'll  have  to  eat  dinner  with 
Major  Patterson.  I  found  the  buggy-box  empty.  I 
questioned  the  negroes,  but  of  course  they  knew  noth 
ing  about  it.  Come,  let's  go  to  the  hotel." 

I  did  not  tell  Henry  of  the  joke  which  Moss  had 
played  upon  me,  for,  having  been  warned,  even  though 
it  was  in  an  indirect  way,  against  the  fellow's  prankish- 
ness,  I  felt  ashamed  of  the  momentary  weakness  which 
I  had  shown. 

Old  Major  Patterson  remembered  me.  He  also 
remembered  his  dry  chuckle  and  his  maneuvers  ex 
pressive  of  a  sort  of  shrinking  fear  that  he  might  be  in 
somebody's  way.  He  told  me,  in  a  whisper,  that  the 
Prohibitionists  no  longer  hac7  die  town  by  its  dry  throat, 
and  that  if  I  wanted  a  bottle  he  would  slip  out  and  get 
one.  After  dinner,  we  went  over  to  call  on  Hammonds. 
Upon  seeing  us  enter  the  door  he  seized  his  whiskers, 
squirted  at  a  box  of  sawdust  and  came  forward  with 
an  air  of  cordiality.  After  he  had  talked  a  long  time 
with  regard  to  his  duties  (breaking  off  occasionally  to 
speak  to  Uncle  Bob  or  Uncle  John  or  Cap'n  Bill),  he 
showed  us  his  books,  wherein  he  had  written  thousands 
of  graceful  but  necessarily  dull  lines. 

While  Henry  and  I  were  standing  on  the  railway 
platform,  just  before  the  train  arrived,  Moss  came  up 
and  asked  us  if  we  were  going  to  travel. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


127 


"  I  am  not,"  Henry  answered,  "  but  Burwood  is  going 
to  Louisville." 

"  Glad  of  it,  for  I  am  going  there  myself." 

"  The  train  is  coming,"  said  Henry.  "  Burwood,  I 
may  go  out  home  to-morrow,  but  I  will  bring  old  Tom 
back  and  keep  him  in  the  livery-stable  until  you  return. " 

Moss  undoubtedly  strove  to  make  himself  agreeable, 
but  he  was  surely  an  annoying  fellow.  His  talk  was 
of  horses,  and  his  voice,  with  the  cadence  of  a  neigh, 
arose  above  the  roar  of  the  train.  We  registered  at 
the  same  hotel  in  Louisville,  and,  as  annoying  luck 
would  have  it,  were  assigned  to  the  same  room. 
Although  the  hour  was  late  (or  early,  rather,  for  it 
must  have  been  nearly  day),  Moss  lay  on  his  bed, 
smoking  and  telling,  with  occasional  outbreaks  of  strong 
emphasis,  about  a  horse  he  once  owned.  He  talked 
horse  until  he  sank  into  a  jerky,  spluttering  sleep  — 
struggling  with  a  nightmare,  doubtless  —  but  even  then 
kept  up  his  "  bridle-wise  "  remarks,  for  he  occasionally 
cried  out,  "  Whoa,  hold  up  your  foot,  here." 

The  next  day  I  called  on  a  publisher,  and,  determined 
that  he  should  not  "  get  me  down,"  I  exhibited  no  anx 
iety  toward  perfecting  arrangements.  Neither  did 
he.  That  man,  even  after  I  had  read  to  him  several 
sheets  of  the  "  History  of  Shellcut,"  actually  yawned. 
I  knew  that  this  was  forced,  and  I  knew  that  when  I 
should  get  up  to  stalk  out,  with  an  independent  air,  he 
would  call  me  back;  but  he  did  not.  He  permitted  me 
to  stalk  out  into  the  street.  I  was  soon  made  to  feel 
that  the  Colonel,  instead  of  receiving  a  royalty  on  his 
book,  would  have  to  pay  all  the  expenses  of  its  publi' 


I  28  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

cation.  I  knew  that,  so  far  as  the  mere  question  of 
money  was  concerned,  this  would  cut  but  an  insignifi 
cant  figure  in  the  bringing-out  of  the  work.  The  harm 
lay  in  the  fact  that  the  Colonel's  pride,  his  confidence 
in  the  importance  of  the  literary  enterprise,  would  re 
ceive  a  severe  stab. 

One  afternoon,  the  second  day  after  arriving  in  the 
city,  I  was  standing  in  the  office  of  the  hotel,  when 
some  one,  approaching  from  behind,  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder.  Turning  about,  I  recognized  the  detective 
who  had  once  followed  me. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,"  said  he,  with  a  dry  laugh. 
"  Holding  forth  out  in  Shellcut,  are  you?" 

"Yes." 

"  Like  it  out  there,  I  reckon." 

"Very  much." 

Just  then  I  saw  Lark  Muss  take  a  seat  out  in  front  of 
the  door.  A  mischievous  desire  for  revenge  came  to 
me. 

"  See  that  fellow  sitting  yonder?"  I  said,  pointing, 

"  That  fellow  with  the  reddish  hair?" 

"Yes." 

"What  of  him?" 

"  Nothing,  only  he  is  the  man  who  robbed  the  Mick* 
leburgbank." 

"  Nonsense." 

"  All  right. " 

"  You  are  joking.  " 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,  but  if  you  want  that  re 
ward  you'd  better  keep  watch  of  the  gentleman." 

I  went  away,  and  did  not  return  to  the  hotel  until  late 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  I2g 

at  night.  When  I  asked  the  clerk  for  my  key  he 
said: 

"  Detective  Blue  has  been  here  three  or  four  times 
looking  for  you.  Played  a  joke  on  some  fellow,  didn't 
you  ?  " 

"  Merely  tried  to  get  even  with  a  friend." 

I  went  to  my  room.  Moss  was  not  there,  and  I 
laughed  at  the  probability  of  his  spending  a  night  in 
prison.  Of  course  he  would  be  angry,  but  then,  being 
a  merciless  joker,  he  should  not  rail  against  a  merciless 
joke.  I  did  not  get  up  until  late  the  next  morning. 
When  I  went  out  into  the  hallway  I  found  a  newspaper 
lying  on  the  floor.  I  took  it  up.  These  startling  head 
lines  glared  at  me : 

"  He  is  Caught. — The  Robber  of  the  Mickleburg 
Bank  is  Captured  in  this  City. —  Excellent  Work  by 
Detective  Blue  and  and  a  Man  Named  Philip  Bur- 
wood. —  The  Robber  Highly  Connected  —  He  Makes  a 
Confession. " 

My  head  began  to  swim.  I  went  back  into  the  room 
and  sat  down.  Made  a  confession  !  Yes,  this  is  the 
statement  : 

"  '  Don't  reckon  there  is  any  use  in  trying  to  get  out  of  it,'  said  Moss  to 
the  detective  late  last  night,  '  for  I  can  now  see  that  Burwood  has  been 
keeping  his  eye  on  me  all  the  time.  But  you  bet  my  people  will  make  it 
hot  for  him.  Boyd  Savcly  is  my  cousin,  and  Boyd  is  one  of  the  bell  cattle, 
I  can  tell  you.  I  believe  them  Britsides  had  something  to  do  with  this. 
Believe  they  hired  Burwood  to  help  humiliate  our  family,  but  you  bet  some 
body  will  hear  hell  a-popping  pretty  soon.  If  the  Britsides  are  into  it,  an 
old  feud  will  be  opened  up.  It's  only  been  half-buried  for  twenty  years, 
and  this  ill  wind  has  about  blowed  the  dirt  off.  They  have  been  trying  to 
down  the  Savely  stock  in  a  hundred  sly  ways.  But  they'll  get  it.  If  I'm 
•««ut  to  the  penitentiary  —  well,  somebody  will  be  sent  to  hell  first.'  " 


130  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

I  sat  there  stupefied.  I  thought  of  many  things.  I 
saw  Luzelle  as  she  had  stood  with  the  light  of  a  new 
day  falling  upon  her 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   RESULT   OF   A   JOKE. 

THERE  came  a  sharp  rap  at  the  door.  "  Come  in," 
I  cried.  The  detective  entered. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Burwood,  I  have  had  dealings  with  a 
great  many  odd  men,  but  I  must  say  that  you  take  the 
lead.  I  didn't  think  there  was  a  man  in  the  world  who 
could  be  so  cool  and  unconcerned  about  so  sensational 
a  matter  as  the  identity  of  a  bank  robber.  What's  the 
matter?  Are  you  sick?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  sick — sick  of  the  fact  that  an  intended 
joke  should  have  so  serious  a  result.  I  no  more  sus 
pected  that  Moss  was  a  robber  than  I  now  suspect  that 
you  are  the  czar  of  Russia." 

I  then  explained  why  I  had  called  his  attention  to 
Moss. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  strange  affair,  surely.  And  you  had 
no  idea  that  he  was  a  robber  ?  " 

"  None  whatever." 

"  I  hadn't,  either,  when  you  pointed  him  out,  but  I 
thought  that,  instead  of  joking  him,  you  were  trying  to 
play  a  prank  on  me,  and  I  should  have  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  him  if  I  hadn't  noticed  —  perhaps  it  was  a  mere 
fancy  —  something  suspicious  about  him.  I  kept  my 
eye  on  him,  followed  him  everywhere  he  went,  and  at 
last,  strangely  influenced  by  something,  I  hardly  know 


132  A  KENTUCK  Y  COL  ONEL. 

what,  I  arrested  him.  When  I  had  taken  him  to  prison, 
I  told  him  that  it  would  be  useless  for  him  to  attempt 
to  hold  out  against  facts;  that  he  had  been  shadowed 
for  some  time,  and  that  to  make  a  confession  was  the 
most  manly  thing  he  could  do.  If  he  had  shown  any 
firmness  whatever,  I  should  have  weakened,  for,  now 
that  I  had  him,  I  could  not  have  told,  for  the  life  of  me, 
upon  what  grounds  I  had  made  the  arrest.  I  had  seen 
something  suspicious,  but  we  see  something  suspicious 
about  every  man  when  we  begin  to  study  him  very 
closely,  especially  when  our  attention  has  been  directed 
to  him.  But  Moss  threw  up  both  hands,  so  to  speak. 
He  began  to  curse  you  and  blow  about  the  blood  his 
people  were  going  to  shed,  and  I  reckon  they  are 
pretty  tough  when  they  get  stirred  up.  Now,  look 
here,  Burwood," —  he  attempted  to  place  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  but  I  waved  him  off, —  "  if  your  part  in  this 
affair  is  simply  a  joke  —  if  your  part  in  this  arrest  was 
simply  a  blunder,  so  to  speak,  you  —  er —  you  surely 
won't  put  in  a  claim  for  half  of  the  one  thousand 
dollars  reward." 

"  You  may  be  at  ease  about  that,  Mr.  Blue,"  I 
replied.  "  I  wouldn't  touch  a  cent  of  it  even  if  I  were 
starving." 

"  I  have  never  been  moved  by  a  sentiment  so  un 
worldly,  "  said  he,  with  a  smile  which  had  no  tendency  to 
increase  my  respect  for  him,  "  but  I  congratulate  any 
one  who  lives  in  such  an  atmosphere.  I'm  not 
going  to  beg  you  to  accept  any  of  the  reward,  un 
derstand,  but  I'll  say  this:  If  you  had  to  hustle  for  a 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

living  as  I  do,  you  d  accept  every  cent  that  is  shoved 
toward  you." 

He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  for  a  time  neithei 
of  us  spoke.  "  I've  hardly  got  the  hang  of  this  thing 
yet,"  he  finally  remarked.  "  In  all  my  experience  I 
never  ran  across  such  an  —  accident  we'll  call  it.  You 
are  not  going  back  to  Shellcut,  are  you?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  wouldn't,  if  I  were  you." 

"Why?" 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  don't  know  why?  Don't 
you  understand  those  people  well  enough  to  know 
that  you'll  be  held  responsible  for  the  disgrace  of  their 
kinsman?  If  I  had  known  it  was  a  mere  joke  on 
your  part  I  wouldn't  have  mentioned  your  name  to 
the  reporter." 

"  You  might  have  known  it;  especially  after  dis 
covering  that  the  fellow  was  actually  the  robber  you 
wanted,"  I  replied.  "  No  sane  man  would  have  pointed 
out  a  robber  as  I  did." 

"  Oh,  it  looks  that  way,  but  how  did  I  know? 
This  world  is  full  of  peculiar  men.  How  did  I  know 
but " 

"  There  is  no  use  in  discussing  it  now,"  I  interrupted, 
"  The  work  is  done.  I  should  like  to  see  Moss. " 

"  Come  on,  then.' 

I  went  with  Blue  to  the  jail.  He  did  not  go  in.  I 
found  Moss  leaning  against  the  grated  door  of  his  cell. 
When  he  saw  me  coming  down  the  corridor,  he  seized 
the  door  and  shook  it  violently. 

"  Moss,"  said  I,  "  the  part  I  played  in  your  arrest 


134 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


was  not  intentional.     I  was  merely  trying  to  get  even 
with  you  for " 

"  You've  done  it,"  he  broke  in. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  a  robber,  Moss." 

*  And  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  a  d d  sneak." 

"  Listen  to  reason,  Moss." 

"  I'd  rather  listen  to  truth,  but  I  don't  hear  it." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  and  you  shall  hear  it.  Now,  in 
the  first  place,  what  object  could  I  have  in  trying  to 
humiliate  you  ?  If  I  had  known  that  you  had  robbed 
the  bank " 

"  You  would  have  given  me  away!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  would  not  shield  any  criminal,"  I  replied,  "  but 
I  should  not  have  informed  on  you  merely  to  humiliate 
your  family.  I  have  no  object  in  disgracing  you." 

"  Yes,  you  have.     You  despise  Boyd  Savely  —  you 

know  why.     You  are  a  d d  coward  and  are  afraid 

to  meet  him  like  a  man.  Ah,  you  may  bite  your  lips 
all  you  please,  but  I'm  giving  you  facts.  How  did  you 
know  what  motive  prompted  me  to  rob  the  bank?  I'll 
tell  you  —  I'll  tell  the  world.  Ten  years  ago  my  people 
put  money  in  that  bank.  The  thing  failed.  The 
smooth  gentlemen  shut  their  doors.  We  couldn't  get 
a  cent.  They  changed  around,  and  about  five  years 
later  opened  up  bigger  than  ever.  Still  we  couldn't 
get  a  cent.  My  folks  decided  to  let  the  thing  go,  but 
I  didn't.  My  crop  was  a  failure  last  year,  and  this  year 
I  needed  money.  I  got  it — but  what  is  the  use  of 
talking  to  a  sneak?  " 

"  Moss,  I  can  do  nothing,  I  see,  to  convince  you  that 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

my  part  in  this  affair  was  unintentional.  I  am  extremely 
sorry ' 

"  You'd  better  be,"  he  broke  in.  "You  may  think 
you've  played  a  sharp  trick,  but  before  it's  done  with 
you'll  wish  you  hadn't  been  born.  I  have  committed  a 
crime  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  but  you  have  done  worse. 
You  have  dragged  a  proud  family  down  into  the  mire. 
And  see  here,  don't  fool  yourself  by  believing  that  the 
Osburys  will  stand  by  you.  Those  people  may  honor 
the  law,  but  they  despise  a  sneak  —  a  suck-egg  dog. 
Oh,  you  may  blink  your  eyes.  That  girl  will  spit  in 

your  face  if  she  ever  sees  you  again.  Why,  d n  your 

unprincipled  soul,  I  kept  Boyd  Savely  from  shooting 
you  like  he  would  a  dog.  You  say  you  are  from  the 
South.  I  have  yet  to  see  a  Southern  gentleman  who  is 
utterly  without  honor." 

"  I  can  serve  no  purpose  by  talking  to  you,  Moss. 
You  will  not  heed  an  honest  statement.  In  your 
estimation  the  robbery  of  the  bank  was  an  honorable 
act ;  the  disgrace  lies  in  the  discovery ;  and,  even 
though  I  admit  that  I  have  done  you  a  wrong,  I  must 
maintain  that  I  have  rendered  justice  a  service." 

He  glared  at  me  and  violently  shook  the  cell  door. 
I  turned  away.  He  hurled  a  volume  of  oaths  after 
me.  At  the  jail  door  I  was  met  by  a  reporter.  I  told 
him  my  story.  He  took  it  down,  but  I  could  see  that 
he  did  not  believe  me.  I  returned  to  my  room. 
Should  I  go  back  to  Emryville  and  run  the  risk  of 
being  killed?  Yes,  I  would  go  back. 

That  evening  upon  taking  up  a  newspaper  I  was 
again  shocked.  Moss  had  killed  himself — had  cut  his 


136  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

throat  with  a  pen-knife.  I  boarded  the  train  for 
Emryville,  forgetful  of  publishers  and  "  The  History 
of  Shellcut  County" — forgetful  of  everything  except 
the  Colonel  and  his  family  —  of  Luzelle.  I  arrived  at 
Emryville  about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  An  old  negro, 
wearing  a  tin  sign  on  his  hat  —  the  old  negro  who  had 
once  conducted  me  to  Major  Patterson's  hotel  —  met 
me  on  the  platform. 

"  Come  back  ergin,  is  you?  "  said  he.  "  Glad  ter  see 
you,  an'  den  I  ain't." 

"  Anything  wrong?"  I  asked. 

"  Yas,  sah,  dar's  er  mighty  heep  er  mutterin'  gvvine 
on,  an'  you  better  look  out  —  but  I  reckon  you's  sharp 
ernuff.  You  mus'  be  frum  de  North.  Huh,  how  you 
did  pick  up  dat  man.  Step  dis  way,  sah;  de  haugs 
been  wollerin'  ober  dar.  Dang'us  bein'  er  'tective, 
ain't  it,  Cap'n?" 

"  I  am  no  detective!"  I  exclaimed,  turning  fiercely 
upon  the  old  fellow. 

He  staggered  back  and  dropped  his  lantern. 

"  Dar,"  he  said,  "  you  dun  skeered  dis  yere  light  out. 
Got  er  match  erbout  you?"  (taking  up  the  lantern). 
"  Neber  mine,  here's  one.  You  mus'  scuze  me  ef  I's 
sorter  tramped  on  yo'  toes.  I  'lowed  dat  ef  er  man  is 
er  'tective  he  wuz  proud  o'  it,  like  er  sheriff  an'  er 
jestice  o'  de  peace  is. " 

"  You  say  you  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  mutter 
ing." 

"  Yas,  sah,  dat's  whut  I  said,  an'  it's  er  fack,  too." 

"  Have  any  threats  been  made?" 

."  Yas,  sah,  an'  it's  might'ly  tangled  up.   De  Savely 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

side  —  takes  in  de  Mosses  an'  de  Hightowers  an'  some 
po'  white  folks  dat  lives  up  on  de  ridge  —  'lows  dat  de 
Britsides — takes  in  de  Mayfields  an' de  Perdues  an' 
some  po' folks  dat  lives  'way  over  on  Caney  Fork  — 
put  you  ter  watchin'  ter  see  ef  you  couldn't  fine  out 
suthin'  ter  'grace  de  Savelys.  De  Savelys  say  da 
gwine  hurt  somebody,  an'  de  Britsides  say,  pitch  in. 
De  Britsides  say,  da  do,  dat  da's  yo'  frien',  makes  no 
ciirTunce  ef  you  is  er  'tective,  an'  dat  da  gwine  stan'  up 
fur  you.  Da  wuz  all  jes'  achin'  fur  er  fight,  anyhow, 
sah,  an'  it  wuz  gwine  come  sooner  or  later.  Step  dis 
way,  sah. " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  the  hotel.  I'm  going  to  get  the 
horse  and  buggy  and  go  out  to  Colonel  Osbury's." 

"  I'll  git  de  hoss.     You  stay  right  here." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute.     Is  Henry   Osbury  in  town?  " 

"  Tuck  de  train  fur  Louisville  dis  ebenin',  sah.  You 
met  him  'bout  ha'f  way." 

I  was  soon  on  my  way  to  the  farm.  The  night  was 
clear  and  cool,  and  the  white  turnpike,  stretching  far 
away,  was  ghostly  where  it  bent  over  the  top  of  a  hill, 
and  the  shrub-covered  spurs  that  came  down  from  the 
ridge  frowned  with  dark  foreboding. 

Old  Tom  trotted  faster  and  faster  as  he  nearedhome. 
I  saw  a  dark  object  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  —  heard  the 
sounds  of  approaching  hoofs.  A  horseman  came  gal 
loping  toward  me. 

"  Helloa!  "  he  called,  reining  up  his  horse. 

"  Helloa!  "  I  replied,  in  a  disguised  voice.  The 
horse  galloped  on.  The  man  was  Boyd  Savely, 

When  I  reached  the  big  gate  that  opened  out  on  the 


138 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


turnpike,  I  saw  a  light  burning  in  the  library.  The 
Colonel  was  evidently  expecting  me.  Just  before  ar 
riving  at  the  yard  gate  I  met  some  one. 

"  Dat's  ole  Tom,  I  knows,"  said  a  voice. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  I  asked. 

"  Isom,  sah."  It  was  the  negro  who  had  advised 
his  friends  to  vote  "  saft  an'  easy. " 

"  Take  old  Tom  to  the  stable,  Isom,"  said  I,  getting 
out  of  the  buggy. 

"  Yas,  sah.     Look  yere,  did  you  meet  somebody?  " 

"Yes  — why?" 

"  White  man  been  'roun'  yere  snortin'  like  er  goat. 
Dat  Mr.  Savely  been  yere.  Come  orderin'  me  'roun', 
too,  he  did,  an'  I  doan'like  dat.  I  tole  him  dat  long 
ez  you'd  been  yere  you  neber  ordered  me  'roun'  none; 
den  he  cussed  you.  Den  I  says,  '  Look  yere,  Mr. 
Savely,  doan  cuss  dat  man,  caze  he's  my  frien',  an'  I 
ain't  gwine  put  up  wid  it.'  Is  you  got  er  quarter,  sah? 
I  got  to  go  down  yere  an'  git  some  medicine  fur — 
thankee,  sah,  thankee.  Oh,  er  man  jes' nachully  kain't 
come  to  me  an'  talk  erbout  my  frien's." 

I  did  not  knock  at  the  front  door,  for,  finding  it 
partly  open,  I  entered  the  hallway.  The  hanging  lamp 
was  burning  dimly.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  deep  and 
ominous  stillness  —  yes,  that  stra'nge,  cracking  noise  that 
seems  at  midnight  to  come  from  the  weary  joints  of  an 
old  house.  I  tapped  at  the  library  door.  The 
Colonel's  voice  bade  me  enter. 

"  Great  God,  Burwood,  what  have  you  done!  "  he 
exclaimed,  when  I  stepped  into  the  room.  He  had 
been  lying  on  the  sofa,  but,  upon  seeing  me,  he  sprang 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  139 

up,  with  the  flush-  of  sudden  exertion  on  his  face. 
"  What  have  you  done?  "  he  repeated. 

"  If  I  have  done  anything  wrong,"  I  replied,  "  it  was 
not  premeditated.  Listen  to  me  for  a  few  moments. 
Sit  down  —  lie  down,  and  let  me  tell  you,  as  quietly  as 
I  can,  how  far  from  being  intentional  was  the  part  I 
have  played  in  this  —  farce.  I  can  think  of  no  other 
befitting  term." 

He  sat  down,  and  I  stood  waiting  for  him  to  light 
his  pipe,  which  he  had  taken  up  and  filled.  Then  I 
told  him  of  the  joke  which  Moss  had  played  upon  me 
and  how  I  good-humoredly  attempted  to  repay  him. 

"  What  you  say  is  true,  Burwood,  I  know  it  is;  but, 
understand  this,  my  boy,  even  if  you  had  discovered 
that  fellow  to  be  a  criminal  and  had  purposely  given 
him  over  to  the  law,  even  though  twenty  families 
might  be  weighted  down  by  disgrace,  by  the  eternal 
God,  I  would  stand  by  you!  "  He  had  sprung  to  his 
feet  and  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  cracking 
and  breaking  the  pipe-stem  in  his  hand.  I  rushed 
toward  him,  but  he  waved  me  back. 

"  By  the  great  God  of  civilization,  it  is  time  for  the 
people  of  this  State  to  throttle  that  ruffianism  which 
desperate  ignorance  is  pleased  to  term  a  just  resent 
ment  of  an  insult.  Philip,  you  are  in  for  it,  though, 
and  nothing  but  your  own  coolness  and  determination 
can  aid  you.  I  am  a  lover  of  law  and  order,  but  let 
me  tell  you,  my  boy,  when  a  man  looks  for  me,  he 
finds  me.  I  did  not  want  to  mention  Boyd  Savely's 
name,  but  I  am  compelled  to.  He  has  been  here 
several  times  looking  for  you;  he  left  here  not  more 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

than  an  hour  ago,  declaring  that  he  was  going  to  town. 
He  and  Henry  had  a  quarrel,  and  Henry  went  to 
Louisville,  but  you  left,  I  suppose,  before  he  arrived  " 

"  Yes,  we  must  have  passed  each  other  about  half 
way.  Savely  made  threats  against  me,  of  course." 

"  Well,  not  in  an  open  way,  but  we  all  understood 
him.  To  me,  Boyd  has  been  almost  like  one  of  my 
own  children.  His  father  and  I  were  devoted  friends, 
and  it  was  understood  between  us  that  our  families 
should  be  connected  by  a  stronger  tie  than  friendship. 
But  we  won't  discuss  that." 

He  sat  down,  after  finding  another  pipe  and  filling 
it;  and,  after  smoking  a  few  moments,  said: 

"  Sit  down  there,  Phil,  and  let  us  take  a  survey  of  the 
field.  The  Savely  and  Britsidesfeud  is  unquestionably 
opened  up.  Boyd's  father  was  killed  by  a  Britsides. 
At  least  two  hundred  people  will  be  involved,  and,  in 
spite  of  anything  the  law  can  do,  a  bloody  fight  will  be 
the  result.  You  cannot,  with  credit  to  yourself,  keep 
out  of  it,  for  the  Savelys  will  hunt  you  as  they  would  a 
fox.  I  told  Boyd  that  I  could  not  uphold  him  in  this 
matter;  that,  so  far  as  his  faction  and  the  Britsides  were 
concerned,,  I  was  surely  and  firmly  his  friend,  but  that 
I  would  stand  up  against  all  odds  for  you,  Burwood. 
Keep  your  seat,  suh  ;  keep  your  seat.  This  is  no  time 
to  grab  hands.  To  grab  measures  is  now  the  thing. 
Our  association,  Phil,  has  been  most  pleasant.  I  really 
understand  you  better  than  I  ever  did  any  man,  and  I 
believe  that  you  understand  me.  You  have  aided  me 
in  one  of  the  keenest  delights  of  my  life.  But  we  won't 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


141 


talk  about  that.  You  saw  Moss  after  he  was  impris 
oned?  " 

"Yes." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  He  denounced  me." 

"  Of  course,  and  he  expressed  no  hope  of  escaping 
the  penitentiary." 

"  He  expressed  no  such  hope, -but  he  has  escaped  it." 

"  How  so — what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"He  has  killed  himself." 

"  What  !"  The  Colonel  sprang  to  his  feet  again  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  room.  "  This  destroys  the  last 
hope  of  a  compromise,"  said  he.  "  How  did  he  kill 
himself?" 

"  With  a  pen-knife. " 

"  Didn't  they  search  him  before  putting  him  in 
jail  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Then  how  did  he  get  the  knife  ?" 

"  No  one  knows." 

The  Colonel  sat  down  again.  After  a  few  minutes' 
silence  he  remarked  :  "  Perhaps  it's  better.  You  are 
not  acquainted  with  any  of  the  Britsides,  are  you  ?" 

"No." 

"  Some  of  them  are  pretty  fair  sort  of  people  ;  some 
of  them  are  very  bad.  Jim  Britsides,  the  leader,  met 
me  on  the  pike  to-day.  He  asked  when  you  would  be 
likely  to  return,  and  told  me  to  tell  you  that  he  would 
stand  by  you.  He  was  apparently  delighted  at  the 
turn  affairs  had  taken  —  hailing  with  pleasure  the 
approach  of  a  long-looked-for  day.  I  told  him  how  1 


742  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

stood.  He,  of  course,  knew  how  I  felt  toward  Boyd, 
but  was  surprised  to  hear  me  speak  so  openly  in  your 
favor.  I  wish  it  were  over  with.  It's  a  tangled-up 
affair,  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  unravel  it  so  as  to 
make  it  intelligible  to  any  one  living  out  from  under 
our  peculiar  conditions.  One  thing  must  be  looked 
to  especially.  You  and  Boyd  must  not  meet  here. 
And,  another  thing,  Burwood,  don't  kill  him  if  you 
can  help  it.  Of  course,  you  must  look  out  for  your 
self,  but  —  come  in." 

Some  one  had  tapped  on  the  door.  Mrs.  Osbury,  fol 
lowed  by  Luzelle,  entered. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Burwood!"  exclaimed  the  motherly 
woman,  "  what  are  we  all  coming  to  ?  Oh,  isn't  it  a 
shame  that  people  cannot  live  in  peace  ?  I  don't 
believe  you  are  a  detective,  Mr.  Burwood."  She 
seized  my  hands.  "  No,  I  do  not  believe  it.  I  don't 
believe  that  you  want  to  drag  any  one  down.  Don't 
stay  here  —  go  away  until  this  disgraceful  outbreak 
is  over.  Go  away,  Mr.  Burwood,  for  God's  sake  go 
away.  Don't  you  see  how  much  we  all  think  of 
you  ?  Don't  stay  here.  Go  away,  please.  " 

Luzelle  sprang  forward,  snatched  her  mother's  hands 
away,  and,  violently  stamping  the  floor,  exclaimed: 

"  What,  would  you  have  him  run  away  like  a 
coward! " 

"  Oh,  he  must  go!"  Mrs.  Osbury  implored,  attempt 
ing  to  lead  me  toward  the  door. 

"  Must  he  run  away  like  a  thief?"  Luzelle  cried  in 
anger.  "  Must  all  your  friends  be  sniveling  cowards  ? 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

Mr.  Burwood,  if  you  are  a  man,  stand  your  ground  and 
meet  whatever  may  come!" 

The  Colonel  stood,  looking  with  pride  upon  his 
daughter.  If  I  had  never  before  felt  in  my  veins  the 
strong  surge  of  the  blood  of  determination,  I  surely 
should  have  felt  it  at  that  moment. 

"Miss  Osbury,"  said  I,  "your  remarks  are  quite 
enough  to  spur  any  one  to  manly  exertion.  But,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  they  are  unnecessary.  Had  1 
intended  to  run  away  I  should  not  have  come  back  to 
this  place." 

She  bowed.     A  cold  smile  lighted  her  face. 

"  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  what  she  says,  Mr.  Bur- 
wood,"  Mrs.  Osbury  pleaded.  "  Think  of  the  awful 
crime  of  shedding  human  blood.  Brother  Buck,  come 
here."  (Mr.  Hineman  had  entered.)  "  Tell  Mr.  Bur- 
wood  to  go  away  —  make  him  go!" 

Old  Buck  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  one  suspender 
was  hanging  down. 

"  I  didn't  know  but  the  house  was  on  fire,"  said  the 
old  fellow,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  light.  "  Go 
away!"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  had  become  wide 
enough  awake  to 'realize  the  meaning  of  Mrs.  Osbury's 
implorations.  "  Why,  damn  my  cats  —  may  the  Lord 
forgive  me  for  the  expression  —  he  can't  go  away. 
He's  in  for  it,  Mary,  he's  in  for  it,  and  I  hope  he'll 
shoot  the  top  of  that  Boyd  Savely's  head  off."  I 
seized  the  old  fellow's  hand.  "  Yes,  I  do,  and  I've  got 
a  pistol  that  carries  a  ball  like  a  walnut.  Hope  you'll 
kill  the  scoundrel.  Tramped  on  my  flute  and  split  hell 
out  of  it,  Burwood — may  the  Lord  forgive  me.  I 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

don't  want  to  swear,  Remington,  you  know  that.  You 
know  that,  even  if  I  don't  go  to  church,  I'm  not  pro 
fane.  Burwood"  (still  shaking  my  hand),  '  don't  you 
let  'em  run  over  you  — -  don't  you  do  it.  There's  a  class 
of  fellows  in  this  neighborhood  that  tries  to  raise  a  row 
with  every  new  man  that  comes  here.  Why,  blast 
their  hides,  they  would  have  run  me  off  long  ago  if  they 
could  have  done  it." 

"Buck,"  said  the  Colonel,  unable  to  suppress  a  smile, 
"  I  don't  know  that  anybody  has  ever  tried  to  run  you 
off." 

"That's  all  right,  Remington,  but  I  know  it — I 
know  it  devilish  well.  But  they  didn't.  They  knew 
of  an  old  dueling-pistol  that  shoots  like  a  belch  from 
perdition.  That's  what  held  them  off.  You've  all  let 
Boyd  Savely  run  over  you,  that's  what  you've  done," 
he  added,  dropping  my  hand  and  turning  to  the 
Colonel.  "Just  because  the  father  was  your  friend,  you 
think  the  son  ought  to  have  the  privilege  of  trampling 
on  you.  But  he  can't  trample  on  me.  I  want  him  to 
understand  that.  What  harm  did  I  ever  do  him?  If 
he  didn't  want  to  hear  my  flute,  why  didn't  he  stay 
away?  Don't  you  let  them  fellows  run  over  you,  Bur- 
wood  —  don't  you  do  it.  Now,  Mary,  just  let  him  alone 
—  let  him  alone.  Don't  try  to  persuade  him  to  be  a 
coward.  Luzelle,  you  —  where  is  she?" 

Luzelle  was  gone.  Mrs.  Osbury,  with  tearful  eyes, 
extended  both  her  hands  to  me.  "  Mr.  Burwood," 
she  said,  "perhaps  every  one  knows  better  than  I  do} 
but  God  knows  that  I  would  not  advise  you  against 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

your  interest.  Good  night,  and  may  Heaven  bless 
you." 

"Hush,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  some  one  halloaed  at  the 
gate.  Go  on  upstairs,  Mary.  It's  only  Burwood's 
friends.  Please  go  on." 

Mrs.  Osbury  withdrew  reluctantly,  and  the  Colonel 
went  to  the  door. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  called. 

"  Jim  Britsides,"  a  voice  replied. 

"Come  in." 

"  Nobody  there  that  I  don't  want  to  see,  I  reckon." 

"No." 

"  Has  that  man  Burwood  got  back?" 

"Yes." 

A  few  moments  later  I  was  introduced  to  Jim 
Britsides.  He  was  tall  and  lean,  with  a  thin  growth  of 
wiry  whiskers  on  his  chin.  On  each  of  his  sallow 
cheeks  there  was  a  scar.  His  eyes  were  small  and 
restless,  and  his  nose  was  thin  and  extremely  prominent. 
He  wore  his  trousers  stuffed  into  his  boot-tops,  and 
in  his  belt  he  carried  several  large,  pearl-handled 
pistols. 

"  Ain't  got  but  a  minit  to  stay,  Colonel.  A  lot  of 
the  boys  air  waiting  out  there.  Curious  the  turn 
things  have  taken  —  don't  mean  that  it's  curious  that 
the  war  should  have  come  up,  but  it's  curious  that  I 
should  be  here.  Don't  want  to  say  nothing  against 
anybody's  friends,  but  nothing  could  have  kept  this 
thing  off  much  longer.  They  only  made  your  act,  Mr. 
Burwood,  a  pretext,  but  I  knowed  that  the  Savelys 
would  somehow  try  to  fasten  it  on  us.  Now,  I  don't 


146  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

reckon  you  air  used  to  this  sort  of  thing,  Mr.  Bur- 
wood,  and  I'm  sorry  you  have  to  take  a  hand  in  it, 
but  you'll  have  to,  or  be  followed  wherever  you  go. 
They've  made  up  their  minds  to  kill  you,  and  they  ah 
goin'  to  do  it  if  they  can.  They  want^to  kill  as  many 
of  us  as  they  can  incidentally,  but  they  want  to  kill 
you  in  particular  —  er  haw,  haw!  I  was  might'ly  sup- 
prised  to  find  that  this  house,  above  all  others,  should 
be  neutral  ground — that  is,  not  exactly  neutral,  but 
leanin'  toward  both  sides  — but  we  never  know  in  this 
section  how  the  cat  is  going  to  jump.  How  air  you 
fixed  for  guns,  Mr.  Burwood?" 

"  I  have  no  fire-arms  at  all." 

"  You  can  have  my  dueling-pistol,  I  tell  you,"  said 
old  Buck. 

Britsides  grunted  contemptuously.  "Dueling-pistol!'' 
he  repeated.  "  What  does  he  want  with  that?" 

"To  shoot  with." 

"  Bah!  do  you  reckon  we  are  going  out  and  ask  fel 
lers  to  stand  up  and  be  shot  at?  Just  as  well  take  a 
brickbat  as  that  thing.  We've  got  guns  a-plenty. 
Come,  let's  ride." 

The  Colonel  and  old  Buck  followed  us  to  the  gate, 
and  at  parting  spoke  many  words  of  encouragement  to 
me.  Old  Buck  was  a  little  hurt,  I  think,  at  my  failure, 
or  perhaps  inability,  to  place  the  correct  estimate 
upon  his  dueling-pistol,  but  when,  just  before  mount 
ing,  I  told  him  how  sorry  I  was  that  a  misfortune  had 
befallen  his  flute  and  that  I  hoped  he  could  patch  it 
back  into  its  normal  condition  of  high  straight  notes 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


147 


and  medium-ground  tremolo,  his  wound  was  healed  as 
if  by  a  miracle. 

Britsides  introduced  me  to  a  number  of  his  followers. 
They  were  exceedingly  cheerful,  and  I  was  more  re 
minded  of  a  family  reunion  than  awakened  to  the  active 
existence  of  a  feud. 

"  Burwood,  you  ride  at  the  head  of  the  gang  with 
me,"  said  Britsides.  "  Come  ahead,  boys.  That 
animal  you  are  on,  Burwood,  is  a  mover,  I  tell  you. 
I  didn't  want  the  Colonel  to  furnish  you  a  hoss  — 
wouldn't  look  exactly  right  —  so  I  thought  I'd  bring 
Jeff  along.  Raised  him  from  a  colt."  He  reached 
over  and  fondly  stroked  the  horse's  mane.  "  Boys, 
we'll  turn  off  at  the  first  road  to  the  right  an*  go  down 
into  the  beech  woods  and  meet  the  other  fellows  at  the 
old  Lick  meeting-house.  Do  you  know,  Burwood, 
that  I  can  hardly  get  over  the  fact  that  the  old  Colonel 
ain't  high  up  in  arms  in  favor  of  the  Savelys.  I'll  tell 
you  what,  young  man;  you  have  had  a  bigger  influence 
on  him  than  any  other  ten  men  could  have  had.  I 
wouldn't  dared  have  gone  there  just  now  if  I  hadn't 
previously  met  him  on  the  pike  and  found  out  how  he 
stood.  Never  was  more  surprised  in  my  life.  He 
ain't  against  Boyd,  understand,  but  he  ain't  in  favor  of 
him  by  a  blamed  sight." 

"  What  is  your  programme?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,  we'll  go  to  the  meeting-house,  meet  the 
other  fellows,  and  sleep  there  till  day." 

"  You  are  not  looking  for  the  Savelys,"  said  I. 

"  No,  we  ain't  looking  for  each  other  now.  We  arc 
simply  carrying  on  a  sort  of  flirtation.  We  mustn't 


148  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

look  for  each  other,  you  understand.  We  must  meet 
by  accident.  The  idea  is  to  be  at  a  place  first.  Then 
the  party  that  comes  last  is  to  blame.  Circuit  court 
meets  in  Emryville  to-morrow,  and  I  thought  we'd  bet 
ter  go  over.  I've  got  a  case  that  I  think  will  be  called 
early,  and  I  want  to  get  there  about  sunrise.  We 
don't  want  to  fire  the  first  shot,  you  understand,  We'll 
simply  go  to  town,  hitch  our  hosses,  and  walk  around 
attending  to  whatever  business  we  may  have,  peace 
able  as  a  lamb,  but  if  a  pistol  happens  to  go  off,  then 
hell  breaks  loose  and  dances  a  jig.  Alf  !" 

"  Here,"  answered  some  one  riding  in  the  rear. 

"  Did  you  tell  Lit  Mayo  to  send  that  bread  over  to 
the  meeting-house?" 

"Yes." 

"  All  right.  We'll  be  as  hungry  as  wolves  about 
daybreak.  Ah,  Burwood,  how  this  reminds  me  of  war 
times.  I  was  a  sort  of  guerrilla,  and  you  better  believe 
I  went  through  places  so  narrow  that  my  shoulders 
touched  each  side.  Hold  on.  Gabe!  " 

"  Here." 

"  Can  we  turn  off  here  and  get  into  the  beech  woods 
without  going  through  a  field?  " 

"  Don't  think  we  can.  There's  some  new  ground 
been  taken  in.  It's  not  very  far  around,  though." 

"  All  right.  Yes,  suh,"  Jim  Britsides  continued, 
addressing  me,  "  this  reminds  me  of  those  dangerous 
times  when  a  man  wa'n't  any  safer  than  a  hoss  and  a 
hoss  wa'n't  safe  at  all." 

He  hummed  a  tune,  and  as  the  memory  of  his  guer 
rilla  days  lent  a  blithesome  influence  to  his  rising  spirits, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

he  muttered  the  words  of  an  old  song.  I  felt  within 
me  no  movement  of  minstrelsy;  no  sweetening  impulse 
of  revenge  quickened  my  blood  with  the  promise  of  a 
glad  day  of  reckoning.  The  coming  strife  could  wipe 
no  stain  from  the  soiled  honor  of  my  family.  I  felt 
that  I  was  an  outlaw,  and  I  rode  along  in  a  condition 
of  regretful  brooding,  and  then  old  Human  Nature 
touched  me  with  his  thrilling  finger  —  touched  me  and 
pointed  at  a  man  who,  with  an  insulting  air,  shook  his 
wavy  hair  in  my  face. 

"  Yonder  is  the  church,"  said  Jim'Britsides,  "  and  I 
reckon  the  congregation  is  on  hand.  Hold  on  a  min 
ute.  Ho,  Luke!  "  he  called. 

"  All  right !  "  came  an  answer  from  the  house. 

"  Come  on,  boys,"  Britsides  added,  "  we'd  better 
hitch  our  hosses  as  close  to  the  church  as  we  can,  and 
then  snatch  a  little  sleep." 

A  number  of  men,  some  of  them  far  from  being  en 
gaging  in  appearance,  were  in  the  church,  and  in  an 
enormous  fire-place  a  log  fire  roared.  One  old  fellow, 
with  his  sleeves  rolled  up,  was  baking  ash-cakes,  and  a 
boy,  whistling  in  his  enjoyment  of  the  part  he  was  tak 
ing  in  the  campaign,  was  cutting  thick  slices  from  a  ham. 

"  We  don't  want  anything  to  eat  until  just  before 
daylight,  Lias,"  said  Jim  Britsides,  speaking  to  the  old 
fellow,  "  but  you'd  better  have  everything  ready.  Bur- 
wood,  you'd  better  spread  your  saddle-blanket  over 
there  in  the  corner  and  lie  down." 

I  lay  there  musing,  but,  I  must  confess  it,  not  in 
deep  regret.  The  wild  scene  was  fascinating.  The 
old  man  hummed  a  tune.  A  screech-owl  cried. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A   DESPERATE   DAY. 

IT  SEEMED  that  I  had  just  crossed  the  frontier  line 
of  semi-consciousness  and  stepped  into  the  fantastic 
republic  of  sleep,  when  Jim  Britsides'  commanding 
voice  aroused  me. 

"  Come,  boys,  hustle  up;  day  is  crawling  down  out 
of  the  hills.  Burwood,  you've  slept  like  a  log.  Come, 
and  let's  eat  a  snack.  We've  got  cold  flour  bread, 
warm  ash-cakes,  ham  and  coffee  strong  enough  to  float 
an  iron  wedge." 

He  moved  about,  arranging  his  war-like  trappings, 
and,  touching  a  drowsy  young  fellow  with  his  foot, 
sang: 

"  Wake  up,  Jacob, 
Day's  a-breakin', 
Fire  in  the  stove  and  hoe-cake  bakin'." 

The  boy  whom  I  had  seen  slicing  the  ham  (he  could 
not  have  been  more  than  fifteen  years  old)  laughed 
gleefully.  He  was  a  handsome  youth,  with  large  blue 
eyes. 

"  Tickles  you,  don't  it,  Sam  ?  "  an  old  man  said. 

"  Yes.  Bob  don't  want  to  get  up  'cause  he  thinks  he's 
got  to  go  plowin',  I  reckon.  Uncle  Jim  "  (addressing 
Britsides),  "  I'll  bet  this  fuzee  "  (tapping  a  pistol)  "  is 
the  first  pole  to  knock  a  persimmon." 

150 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  It's  long  enough,"  Britsides  answered. 

"  Yes,  and  strong  enough.  I  killed  a  dog  across  the 
creek  with  it." 

"  Good  enough.  You  mout  have  to  kill  a  dog 
across  the  street  with  it.  Pitch  in,  all  hands.  Bur- 
wood,  that  cup  leaks.  Let  me  have  it,  and  you  take 
this  one." 

"  I  wonder  where  we'll  all  be  this  time  to-mor 
row  morning,"  remarked  the  old  man  who  had  baked 
the  ash-cakes. 

"  Some  of  us  may  be  where  it's  hotter  than  it  is  in 
this  fire-place,"  Sam  replied. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  a  sandy-haired  fel 
low,  moving  from  in  front  of  the  fire  and  attempting 
to  hold  his  scorching  jeans  trousers  away  from  the 
calves  of  his  legs;  "  but  if  it  is,  you  may  count  me  out. 
Pass  the  sweetenin'  over  this  way,  as  the  feller  said  at 
the  party  when  a  girl  kissed  her  podner.  Whew!  the 
hinges  to  the  gates  of  torment  are  frost-bit  compared 
to  this  coffee." 

"  Drink  it  down,  and  let  it  cool  as  we  ride  along," 
Jim  Britsides  replied.  "  More  meat,  Burwood." 

"  No  more." 

"  Better  eat;  mout  not  get  any  dinner." 

"  Might  not  need  any." 

"  That's  a  fact.  You  may  take  those  sixes, "he  con 
tinued,  pointing  to  a  brace  of  pistols  lying  on  a  blanket. 
"  Better  fill  your  pockets  with  cartridges.  Look  here," 
he  suddenly  added,  "  you  look  like  you  was  drawed 
into  this  thing  against  your  will  —  that  is,  you  appear 
mighty  loth  to  take  your  ©wn  part.  Now,  let  me  tell 


152 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


you,  young   man,  those  fellows  would   kill  you  in  a 
minute  if  they  had  a  chance." 

"  I  don't  doubt  that,  but  I  do  not  see  why  sensible 
men  cannot  accept  an  explanation.  It  was  simply  a 
joke  on  my  part,  and  I  can't  understand  why  a  whole 
community  should  rise  up  in  arms. " 

"  I  tell  you,"  Britsides  answered,  "  that  they  make 
your  act  a  pretext,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  majority 
of  them  believe  that  you  were  hired  by  us  to  humiliate 
theSavelys." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  I,  "  that  the  officers  of  the 
law  would  make  an  effort  to  keep  the  two  factions 
apart. " 

"  How  can  they?  The  citizens  of  Kentucky  have 
a  right  to  go  to  town,  haven't  they?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  armed,  ready  to  engage  in  deadly 
encounter." 

"  Who  is  supposed  to  know  what  their  intention  is? 
Any  man  has  a  right  to  carry  a  gun,  and  no  officer 
need  know  that  you've  got  a  pistol  until  you  begin  to 
use  it,  and  he  ain't  going  to  put  himself  to  much  trou 
ble  to  take  it  away  from  you  then,  I  reckon.  Come, 
fellows,  it's  time  to  be  moving." 

Day  was  just  breaking  when  we  mounted  our  horses. 
The  screech-owl  fluttered  from  his  bower  of  green-briar 
vines,  and  the  fox,  startled  from  his  nap,  which,  after 
a  night  of  revelry,  he  had  dropped  into  at  early  morn 
ing,  scampered  up  'the  hillside.  The  air  was  heavy 
with  a  promise  of  rain,  and  the  sun,  when  he  showed 
himself  above  a  rugged  spur  of  the  distant  ridge,  broke 
in  dull  streaks  like  an  addled  egg. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


153 


"  We  won't  go  in  on  the  main  street,"  said  Britsides, 
speaking  to  me.  "  We'll  sorter  scatter  before  we  get 
to  town,  ride  in  unconcerned  and  hitch  our  horses,  and 
then  stay  as  close  together  as  we  can.  Joe  Britsides, 
my  cousin,  stayed  there  last  night,  and  will  tell  us  how 
the  land  lays.  If  nothing  happens  we'll  go  around  to 
old  Major  Patterson's  and  get  something  to  eat  about 
dinner-time.  You've  met  the  old  fellow,  haven't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  He  is  a  peculiar  old  man,  so 
careful  lest  by  some  unweighed  word  he  might  give 
offense.  Such  an  outbreak  as  this  must  greatly  frighten 
one  so  timid." 

Jim  Britsides  laughed.     "  Alf,"  he  called. 

"Here." 

"  This  man  says  that  old  Patterson  must  be  frightened 
at  one  of  these  outbreaks,  he's  so  timid." 

Alf  snorted,  and  the  boy  Sam,  who  rode  just  behind 
me,  giggled. 

"  You  don't  know  that  old  fellow,"  said  Jim  Britsides. 
"  He's  the  gamest  man  I  ever  saw.  He's  had  more 
fights  and  whipped  more  fellows  than  any  man  in  Shell- 
cut.  His  family  feud  is  all  wiped  out  ;  he's  the  only 
survivor  of  both  factions.  He'd  rather  stand  out  and 
burn  powder  than  to  eat  the  sweetest  pie  that  was  ever 
baked.  He  is  getting  old,  though,  and  is  sorter  quiet 
ing  down.  Zeb!  " 

"Yes." 

"  We'll  cross  the  creek  below  the  rock  bridge,  and 
hitch,  as  many  of  us  as  can,  in  the  lot  back  of  Potter^ 
store." 


154 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


The  little  town  was  scarcely  awake  when  we  rode 
in.  Here  and  there  clerks  were  sweeping  out  the 
stores.  The  town  cow,  bruised  by  many  a  brickbat, 
knock-kneed  and  mournful  of  countenance,  stood  on 
the  public  squa  re  and  bawled  in  echoing  complaint  of 
her  own  wretchedness;  but  the  town  hog,  active, 
hungry  and  greedy,  ran  hither  and  thither,  overturning 
goods  boxes  and  scattering  piles  of  trash  that  had  been 
swept  from  the  stores. 

We  dismounted  in  the  vacant  lot  indicated  by  Jim 
Britsides,  hitched  our  horses  to  racks  and  fences,  and 
stood  about  with  the  apparent  carelessness  of  the  aver 
age  farmer  who  comes  to  town  on  court  day.  I  saw 
no  hostile  sign,  and  as  the  town  began  to  awake  to  its 
droning  occupation,  I  fancied  that,  after  all,  there  might 
be  no  danger  of  a  conflict,  and  I  so  expressed  myself 
to  Jim  Britsides.  He  smiled  grimly,  and,  pointing 
to  a  fellow  who  was  skulking  along  a  back  street, 
replied: 

"  Yander's  one  of  them  now.  Oh,  they'll  all  be  here; 
don't  you  fret  about  that. " 

"  I  wouldn't  do  much  fretting  if  none  of  them  came," 
I  answered. 

"  But  I  would,"  he  rejoined,  wrinkling  his  chin  and 
scratching  his  wiry  whiskers.  "  This  thing  has  been 
on  the  quiver  until  I  want  to  see  it  settled  one  way  or 
the  other.  Ah,  how  air.you,  Joe?"  (speaking  to  a  man 
who  came  out  of  a  back  door.)  "  How  is  everything?" 

"All  right,  I  reckon?" 

"  Many  of  them  here?" 

"  Not  yet,  but  they  air  droppin'  in  putty  peart." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  155 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  Boyd  Savely?" 

"  No,  but  he  is  in  town." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  here?" 

"  Stayed  here  nearly  all  night. " 

"  Has  Henry  Osbury  returned?"  I  asked. 

"  No.     You  are  Mr.  Burwood,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"  Glad  to  meet  you.     What  time  is  it?" 

"  Eight  o'clock,"  I  answered,  looking  at  my  watch. 

"  Sam,"  said  Jim  Britsides,  "  put  that  pistol  down  in 
your  britches.  We  don't  want  to  commence  the  fight, 
understand." 

"  I  don't  care  who  commences  it,"  the  boy  responded, 
"  but  you  bet  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  none  of  them  run  over 
me." 

"  Boys,"  Jim  Britsides  remarked,  "  we'll  sorter  use 
this  place  as  headquarters.  Don't  sa'nter  off  very 
far." 

I  sat  down  on  a  box.  There  were  but  few  buildings 
to  obstruct  our  view  of  the  main  part  of  the  town. 
The  court-house  was  near,  and  I  could  see  the  farmers 
sitting  on  the  steps.  The  town  marshal,  with  his 
immense  hickory  stick,  walked  up  and  down  the  street. 
A  man  poked  his  head  out  of  an  upper  window  of  the 
court-house,  and  yelled  :  "  T.  V.  Balch!  T.  V.  Balch!" 
The  farmers  got  up  and  went  into  the  house  ;  a  man, 
evidently  T.  V.  Balch,  came  out  of  a  "  doggery  "  and 
hastened  up  the  steps;  an  old  negro  drove  an  ox  wagon 
on  the  square,  and  in  a  lusty  voice  proclaimed  the  great 
commercial  fact  that  he  had  ginger-cakes  and  cider  for 
sale  ;  and  a  patent-medicine  man,  standing  on  a  cor- 


'5* 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


ner,  entertained  a  motley  crowd.  Dogs  fought, 
mares  neighed  for  their  wayward  colts.  After  a  while 
the  voice  of  a  lawyer  could  be  heard,  pleading  the 
cause  of  some  unfortunate  wretch.  A  heavy  cloud  had 
blotted  out  the  sun.  The  air  was  sultry,  and  a  low 
rumble  of  thunder  came  from  the  west.  Nearly  twelve 
o'clock.  Our  men  were  walking  about  or  lazily  lean 
ing  against  a  fence.  Sam  sat  in  a  large  goods  box, 
humming  a  tune.  Britsides  and  several  of  his  followers 
had  been  gone  for  some  time.  The  tavern  bell  rang 
for  dinner.  Suddenly  there  came  from  the  square  a 
loud  cry  of  "  Look  out !  "  and  then  there  came  the  start 
ling  report  of  a  gun.  Quick  as  the  wink  of  an  excited 
eye,  the  lazy  scene  in  the  lot  was  turned  into  nerve- 
strung  alertness.  Jim  Britsides  bounded  over  the  fence. 
He  had  lost  his  hat,  and  his  long  hair  streamed  like  the 
mane  of  a  runaway  horse. 

"  Out  with  your  guns !  "  he  yelled.  "  Out  with  your 
guns,  for  the  devil  has  broke  loose.  Steady,  here  they 
are!  " 

In  a  moment  a  party  of  men,  some  of  them  on 
horseback,  dashed  around  the  corner  and  opened 
fire  upon  us.  It  was  a  desperate  assault,  almost 
a  surprise,  but  Britsides'  men,  without  a  tremor, 
met  the  attack  —  that  is,  I  have  been  told  so,  for  to 
me  it  was  fierce,  almost  self-forgetful  excitement, 
visible  only  in  glimpses.  Yell  after  yell  —  howls  of 
rage,  oaths  and  exultant  cries  of  vengeance,  as  an 
enemy  fell  in  a  hand-to-hand  encounter.  I  saw  a 
Savely  beat  down  a  Britsides  and  blow  out  his  brains, 
and  then  I  saw  young  Sam  shoot  the  Savely  dead.  A 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


157 


L-;rse,  ridden  by  a  Savely,  dashed  upon  me  —  hemmed 
me  up  in  a  corner.  I  felt  the  animal's  hot  breath  upon 
my  face.  The  rider  stood  high  in  the  stirrups  and 
swung  a  Winchester  rifle  over  my  head.  The  gun  fell 

—  the   man  rolled  off  the  horse,  dead.     Young  Sam 
Britsides  waved  his  hand  at  me  and  laughed.     Timely 
was  his  shot,  for  my  pistols  were  empty.      I  did  not 
see  Boyd  Savely,  but  once  I  thought  that  I  heard  his 
voice,  urging  his   men   to   keep  cool.     We  were  out 
numbered  ;  the  fence  was  broken  down,  and  we  were 
forced  out  upon  the  public  square.     The  fight  thus  far 

—  although  it  was  hours  tome  —  could  not  have  lasted 
more  than  a  few  moments,  for  excited  people,  not  hav 
ing  had  time  to  get  out  of  the  way,  were  fleeing  up 
and  down  the  streets,  and  the  court-house  doors  were 
thronged  with  men  struggling  to  force  their  way  out. 
Wounded   horses    broke   loose    from   the   racks,    and 
plunged  furiously  among   the    people;   a   dog,  with   a 
shot  through  his  body,  howled  with  a  death  tone  in  his 
voice;    a    runaway    team    struck  the  patent-medicine 
man's  stand  and  scattered  his  bottles  in  every  direction; 
one  of  the  steers  yoked  to  the  old  negro's  cider  wagon 
dropped  dead,  and  the  other  one,  without  the  least 
show  of  concern,  stood  chewing  a  mouthful  of  hay. 
There  was  no  time  for  contemplation — what  I  did  see 
I  saw  at  a  mere  glance. 

On  the  square  our  men  were  scattered.  Some  of 
them  fought  from  behind  the  corners  of  the  court 
house,  but,  dislodged,  were  forced  further  back.  Now 
I  could  see  Boyd  Savely.  His  hat  was  off,  and  I  saw 
him  throw  back  his  head  and  shake  his  wavy  hair. 


158  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

The  next  moment  a  Britsides  who  had,  without  inten 
tion,  stepped  in  front  of  me,  sank  to  the  ground. 
Jim  Britsides  was  here,  there,  everywhere,  it  seemed. 

"  The  blacksmith  shop!  "  he  cried.  "  Run  for  the 
blacksmith  shop!  " 

The  shop  was  just  .down  the  street  from  the  court 
house.  In  a  moment  more  we  were  fighting  from  its 
gloomy  precincts.  I  wondered  why  Britsides  had  not 
ordered  his  men  into  the  court-house,  but  soon  discov 
ered  his  reason:  the  Savelys  had  forestalled  him. 
The  firing  was  now  slow  and  deliberate.  A  bead  was 
drawn  on  every  head  that  showed  itself. 

"  Keep  cool,  men,"  said  Jim  Britsides.  "  Don't  throw 
away  your  powder.  Keep  it  in  case  they  make  a  rush. 
God,  but  they  have  used  us  up  !  Listen  !  Some  of 
our  men  are  still  up  the  street.  Our  force  is  split. 
Where  is  Sam  ?  Zeb,  have  you  seen  Sam  ?  " 

"  Not  since  we  left  the  lot.  He's  all  right,  though,  I 
reckon." 

"  They  got  the  bulge  on  us,  but  it  had  to  be,  Bur- 
wood." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  knew  they  had  their  plans  all  made,  but  I  was 
laying  my  pipes  to  outwit  them.  That  lot  was  a  good 
place  to  meet,  but  a  bad  place  to  fight.  Burwood,  you 
got  up  off  the  box,  once,  didn't  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Your  head  showed  above  the  fence.  Bill  Moss 
drawed  a  bead  on  it  with  a  Winchester,  and  in  another 
second  the  top  of  your  head  would  have  gone  off,  but 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


159 


1  dropped  the  gentleman.  That's  the  reason  the  fight 
began  before  I  intended  it.  Look  out  !  " 

A  bullet  fired  from  the  court-house  knocked  a  draw 
ing-knife  from  the  wall. 

"  Mr.  Britsides,  I  don't  know  how  to  express  my 
thanks." 

"  Don't  try.  Look  out,  boys,  they  are  getting  the 
range  on  us.  I'm  uneasy  about  Sam.  Hah  —  wait  a 
minute." 

He  leveled  a  rifle  and  fired.  A  man  fell  from  an 
upper  window  of  the  court-house. 

"  There's  a  lot  of  them  outside  !  "  Zeb  exclaimed. 
"  They  are  going  to  make  a  rush." 

"  Steady,  boys,  steady,"  Jim  Britsides  quietly  re 
marked,  shoving  a  cartridge  into  his  gun.  "  Don't 
shoot  till  they  get  up  close.  Hold  on  !  don't  shoot  at 
all.  By  the  Lord,  some  of  our  boys  are  on  the  other 
side  of  them.  Sam  is  with  them.  Ah,  they  know 
he's  there." 

It  was  now  evident  that  Sam  and  several  others  of 
the  Britsides  faction  were  trying  to  reach  us,  and  that 
the  Savelys,  instead  of  preparing  for  a  rush  upon  the 
shop,  were  endeavoring  to  prevent  them.  For  a  time 
we  lost  sight  of  Sam,  but  we  soon  discovered  that  he 
and  his  followers  were  trying,  by  means  of  a  round 
about  way,  to  join  us;  but  the  Savelys  were  wide 
awake,  and  we  could  see  them  dodging  from  place  to 
place,  always  keeping  something  between  themselves 
and  the  boy's  deadly  aim.  Sam,  by  an  unexpected 
move,  gained  an  advantage,  and  emerged  in  the  street 
between  us  and  the  Savelys.  He  ran  ^apidly  toward 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

the  shop,  waving  his  hat,  and,  although  he  was  ex 
posed  to  the  Savelys'  fire,  we  could  aid  him  but  little, 
fearful  of  shooting  our  own  men.  The  Britsides  cheered 
lustily,  but  suddenly  the  cheering  ceased.  Several  of 
the  Savelys  ran  out  of  an  alley  in  front  of  the  boy. 
This  was  the  time  for  me  to  act.  Without  a  thought 
of  danger  —  without  a  thought  except  that  the  boy  had 
saved  my  life  —  I  sprang  through  a  window.  Britsides 
and  his  men  followed  me,  for  I  heard  their  voices  be 
hind.  It  seemed  that,  with  one  long  bound,  I  was  at 
the  boy's  side.  I  saw  his  pale  face,  his  large  blue  eyes 
blazing  —  a  cold  smile  upon  his  lips  —  and  then  I  saw 
him  sink  to  the  ground.  A  bullet  had  passed  through 
his  head.  I  held  him  up  —  his  blood  gushed  upon  my 
hands.  I  seemed  to  have  then  lost  consciousness  of 
my  surroundings,  but  I  remember  that  a  heavy  blow 
came  down  upon  my  head,  that  a  horse's  breast  jammed 
me  against  a  wall.  Suddenly  I  seemed  to  awake.  I 
found  that  I  was  in  an  alley.  I  could  hear  firing,  but 
no  one  was  in  sight.  I  leaned  against  the  wall,  weak, 
almost  fainting. 

Hearing  pistol  shots  not  far  distant,  I  looked  down 
the  alley,  and  there,  not  more  than  twenty  yards  away, 
stood  Boyd  Savely.  He  was  standing  in  an  open  space 
at  the  mouth  of  the  alley,  deliberately  firing  across  a 
lot.  "  It  is  my  shot  now,"  I  said,  and  with  my  pistol 
I  took  aim  at  his  hair.  The  Colonel's  words  came  back 
tome.  I  lowered  the  pistol.  Just  then  Savely  turned. 
He  saw  me,  and,  raising  his  left  arm,  he  laid  his  pistol 
across  it.  I  saw  his  gray  eye  close.  I  was  spell-bound 
• — I  could  not  move.  "  I  wonder  how  long  before  h* 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

will  shoot,"  I  mused.  "  Why  does  he  keep  me  stand 
ing  here  so  long?  Why  didn't  I  shoot  him?  Why 
don't  I  shoot  him  now?  It  is  too  late."  I  thought  of 
Luzelle,  and,  thrilled,  sprang  to  one  side.  A  bullet 
grazed  my  hair.  Some  one  from  behind  seized  me  by 
the  arm. 

:<  I  want  you,"  said  a  stern  voice.  "  I  am  the  sheriff. " 
I  offered  no  resistance,  but  submissively  accompanied 
the  sheriff  to  the  street,  where  I  was  seized  by  two 
men,  who,  giving  me  no  chance  to  conduct  myself  as 
a  well -conditioned  prisoner,  almost  dragged  me  down 
the  street.  A  yelling  mob  followed  us,  and  in  the 
noisy  throng  I  saw  Jack  Gap,  reeling  with  drunken 
ness. 

I  was  taken  to  the  jail,  an  old  brick  building  facing 
a  back  street,  and  locked  in  a  cell  on  the  ground  floor. 
The  mob  outside  gradually  dispersed,  and,  left  with 
profound  silence  for  my  companion,  I  sat  down  on  a 
bunk  and  strove  to  collect  my  flighty  senses.  In 
my  semi-dazed  condition  I  fancied  that  my  thoughts 
lay  scattered  about  the  town  and  that  I  should  never 
be  rational  until  permitted  to  go  out  and  gather  them 
up.  My  head  ached  from  the  effect  of  the  blow  which 
I  had  received,  and  my  eyes,  I  imagined,  were  trying 
to  jump  out  for  relief.  My  hat  was  gone  and  my 
clothes  were  torn. 

I  must  have  been  sitting  there  a  long  time,  for  the 
blurred  streaks  of  dull  day  had  ceased  to  come  in  at  a 
small  window  near  the  ceiling  of  the  corridor,  when  a 
short,  fat  man,  carrying  a  lamp  with  one  hand  and  a 
large  tin  plate  with  the  other,  approached  my  cell. 

11 


1 62  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Here's  something  to  eat,"  he  said,  shoving  the 
plate  through  an  opening.  "  The  vidults  ain't  of  the 
best  nor  none  too  plentiful,  but  the  coffee  will  help 
you.  I'll  set  the  lamp  over  here  where  you  can  see. 
That's  a  putty  good-lookin'  watch  you've  got  there,"  he 
added,  when  I  had  looked  to  see  what  time  it  was. 
"  Don't  want  to  swap  it  for  a  better  one,  do  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"All  right;  don't  care  much  about  swappin'  myself, 
but  I  'lowed  you  mout  be  wantin'  to  pass  the  time 
away  somehow.  This  has  been  a  hot  day  fur  old 
Emryville,  ain't  it?" 

"  Yes,  and  particularly  so  for  me.  Did  they  arrest 
any  one  else?  " 

"  No,  couldn't  catch  'em." 

"  Didn't  try  very  hard,  did  they?  " 

"  Wall,  they  didn't  break  no  hamstrings.  You  was 
the  man  they  was  after  mostly." 

"Why?" 

"  Wall,  the  officers  'lowed,  they  did,  that  you  was  the 
man  that  brought  on  the  trouble.  The  Savelys  told 
'em  that  you  and  the  Britsides  fellers  was  comin'  in  to 
raise  a  row." 

"  We  won't  discuss  the  question  as  to  who  caused 
the  trouble.  Do  you  know  how  many  men  were 
killed?" 

"  Not  exactly,  but  a  good  many,  and  two  citizens 
that  didn't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  it  was  wounded. 
There's  a  mighty  heap  of  mutterin'  an'  growlin'  around 
town,  I  can  tell  you,  and  I  don't  want  to  make  you 
feel  uneasy,  but  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  in  your  place." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  1 6^ 

"  No  man  wants  to  be  locked  up  in  a  cell,"  I  an 
swered. 

"  Oh,  it  ain't  so  much  bein'  locked  up  in  a  cell!  " 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"  Mob,  that's  what." 

I  was  startled.  My  scattered  senses  were  coming 
back. 

"  The  sheriff  will  surely  protect  a  prisoner,"  said  I, 
endeavoring  to  be  calm. 

"  Wall,  when  the  sheriff  finds  out  that  the  people 
want  a  man,  they  ginerally  git  him,  but  I  don't  want  to 
make  you  feel  uneasy." 

"  But  you  have  the  keys  of  the  jail,  haven't  you?" 

The  old  fellow  shook  his  fat  sides.  "  What  do  the 
keys  amount  to?  They  can  break  in  that  door  with  a 
sledge-hammer.  I  tell  you,  my  friend,  it's  a  pretty 
serious  thing  for  a  stranger  to  come  in  and  raise  a  row 
like  this.  Hands  off,  is  our  idee.  If  two  families 
have  got  anything  agin  each  other,  let  'em  alone.  You 
ain't  no  kin  to  Jim  Britsides,  I  reckon." 

"No." 

"  Then  why  did  you  want  to  stir  this  thing  up? 
Lark  Moss  hadn't  done  you  no  harm.  Why,  there  was 
lots  of  men  right  here  in  this  town  that  half  knowed  he 
robbed  that  bank,  but  they  didn't  say  nothin',  because 
it  wa'n't  none  of  their  business.  It's  a  mighty  good 
plan,  mister,  for  a  man  to  pay  attention  to  his  own 
affairs.  It's  a  bad  idee  to  jump  on  a  feller,  even  if  you 
do  git  money  for  it.  Stfll,  as  I  said  before,  I  don't 
want  to  make  you  feel  uneasy." 

The  gloom  of  the  .place  must  have  been  oppressive 


164  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

even  to  one  accustomed  to  it,  for  the  jailer  attempted, 
by  turning  up  the  light,  to  drive  the  dark  shadows 
away;  but,  after  being  driven  into  the  corners,  they 
made  threatening  motions  as  if  they  would  come  out 
again. 

"  I've  seed  rights  durin'  the  war  that  wa'n't  no  worse 
than  this,"  said  the  old  fellow.  "  It  was  limb,  skin  an' 
jayhawk,  as  the  feller  said.  But  you  all  'peared  to  be 
in  one  'nother's  way.  How  many  men  do  you  reckon 
was  on  a  side?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  We  had  about  forty,  I  should 
think." 

"  Yes;  reckon  you  did,  but  the  Savelys  had  mo'n 
that.  The  thing  ain't  dun  with  yit,  but  it  better  be, 
for  the  folks  air  gittin'  mighty  tired  of  sich  cavortin'. 
I  hope  nothin'  will  happen  to-night;  still,  I  wouldn't 
like  to  sign  a  note  payable  when  sump'n  do  take  place. 
Still,  as  I  'lowed  while  ago,  I  don't  want  to  make  you 
feel  uneasy.  If  you'd  ruther,  I'll  leave  the  lamp 
here." 

"  Thank  you;   it  will  be  a  favor." 

"  Oh,  I  try  to  help  a  man  all  I  kin.  Thar  ain't  no 
use  in  a  feller  bein'  mean  jest  because  he's  got  the  power 
to.  Wall,  I'll  leave  you  now." 

I  had  not  a  doubt  that  he  would  willingly  surrender 
his  keys  if  a  mob  should  demand  them,  and  that  with 
out  the  moving  of  a  muscle  of  his  fat  jowl  he  would  see 
me  hanged.  The  coffee  had  the  effect  of  not  only 
stimulating  me  physically,  but  of  reviving  my  sense  of 
danger.  To  be  hanged  by  a  mob!  The  thought  was 
horrifying,  and  I  strove  to  put  it  aside,  but,  making 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  165 

threatening  motions  like  the  shadows  in  the  corner,  it 
kept  flitting  to  and  fro  across  my  mind.  There  was 
no  sound  outside  except  the  distant  hack,  hack,  hack 
of  some  boy  that  was  chopping  his  evening's  wood.  I 
lay  on  the  bunk  and  tried  to  sleep,  but  the  dark  shadows 
in  the  corner  kept  up  their  menacing  motions,  and  the 
dark  thought  on  my  mind  kept  on  moving  to  and  fro. 
"  What  noise  is  that!  "  I  exclaimed  aloud,  springing  to 
my  feet.  I  listened  eagerly.  The  swelling  noise  of  a 
gathering  tumult  smote  me  like  a  chilling  wind  — 
touched  me  as  with  the  cold  and  dreadful  fingers  of  a 
corpse.  Louder  —  nearer  the  tumult  came,  nearer 
still,  and  a  wild  shout  arose.  The  fat  jailer  ran  into  the 
corridor. 

"  They've  come!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Merciful  God!     Don't  give  them  the  keys!  " 

"  My  wife  tuck  the  keys  away  from  me,"  he  cried, 
"  and  now  they'll  kill  me!  Sue,  are  you  going  to  let 
me  have  'em?" 

"  No!  "  a  voice  replied. 

There  came  a  loud  knock  at  the  front  door. 

"  Hullett!  "  some  one  exclaimed.     "  Hullett!  " 

"Yes." 

"  Open  this  door!  " 

"  I  can't.      Haven't  got  the  keys." 

"  Open  it,  or  we'll  break  it  down!  " 

"Can't,  I  tell  you." 

"  Break  it  down,  boys." 

Crash!  crash!  They  were  at  work  with  sledge 
hammers. 

Some  one  knocked  at  the  back  door.     "  Hullett," 


1 66  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

said  a  low  voice,  "  open  the  door.  I  have  a  message 
from  the  sheriff." 

Crash!  crash! 

"  I  am  not  with  the  mob.  If  you  don't  open  the 
door  Major  Patterson  says  he  will  kill  you." 

The  jailer  hastened  to  the  back  door  and  opened 
it.  Henry  Osbury  sprang  into  the  corridor. 

"  Open  that  cell  door!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  can't  —  wife's  got  the  keys." 

"  Here, "said  a  woman,  throwing  a  bunch  of  keys 
into  the  corridor.  The  jailer  seized  the  keys. 

"  Open  the  door,"  Henry  cried,  "  or,  by  the  God 
above,  I  will  shoot  you!  " 

"  The  mob  will  kill  me  if " 

"  Open  it,  or  I  will  kill  you  this  minute!  " 

A  terrific  crash.     The  front  door  was  yielding. 

The  jailer  tremblingly  unlocked  the  cell  door.  The 
muzzle  of  a  pistol  was  pressed  againt  his  head. 

"Run,  Burwood!"  Henry  cried.  "Run  for  your 
life,  and  may  God  bless  you!  " 

He  clapped  his  hat  on  my  head.  In  another  moment 
I  was  in  a  garden,  and  then  I  plunged  into  the  creek. 
I  scrambled  out  on  the  other  side,  ran  across  a  field, 
ran  into  a  skirt  of  woods,  and  thence  into  another 
field.  I  stopped  and  listened,  but  heard  nothing  save 
the  plaintive  lullaby  of  a  negro.  Crossing  another 
field  and  passing  through  another  skirt  of  woods,  I 
came  to  a  turnpike;  and  it  was  not  long  until  I  dis 
covered  that  it  was  the  road  which  passed  the  Osbury 
farm.  I  would  see  the  Colonel  again;  I  would  rest 
again,  even  if  for  no  longer  than  a  few  moments,  under 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  1 6} 

a  roof  which  had  grown  so  dear  to  me.  I  knew  that  it 
was  dangerous,  yet  I  followed  the  turnpike.  The 
clouds,  executing  their  all-day  threat,  began  to  pouj 
out  wild  dashes  of  rain,  and  thunder,  not  with  ths 
loud  crash  of  a  summer  outburst,  but  with  the  rumbling 
growl  of  a  November  storm,  seemed  to  roll  across  the 
fields,  deepening  with  a  sudden  jolt  as  it  struck  the 
rugged  spurs  of  the  ridge.  Now  the  turnpike  was  an 
endless  stretch  of  light,  upon  which  streaks  of  fire 
were  darting,  and  then  the  blackness  of  a  coffin's  cloth 
Avould  fall  upon  it.  I  heard  the  rapid  approach  of 
horses,  and,  running  to  the  roadside,  I  lay  low  down  in 
;a  corner  of  the  fence.  The  lightning  glared,  and  I 
saw  three  men  passing  me,  galloping  furiously,  and  for 
a  moment  I  fancied  that  they  were  a  part  of  the  storm. 
Again  I  hastened  onward,  and  again  I  had  to  hide,  as 
horsemen  came  dashing  from  an  opposite  direction. 
I  stood  on  a  hill,  and  when  the  lightning  flashed  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Colonel's  house.  I  hastened 
onward.  A  wailing  sound  caused  me  to  stop.  The 
lightning  showed  me  that  I  was  in  front  of  Jack  Gap's 
cabin.  I  heard  the  wailing  sound  again,  and  I  stepped 
into  the  yard.  The  door  was  open,  for  I  saw  the  dull 
red  eye  of  a  smoldering  fire.  There  came  a  vivid  flash 
of  light.  I  saw  Mrs.  Gap  kneeling  on  the  floor,  with 
her  hands  clasped  in  despair  —  I  saw  a  trundle-bed 
drawn  out  from  the  wall — I  caught  sight  of  a  little 
face.  The  pale  child  was  dead. 

I  hastened  to  the  house.  The  front  door  was  locked, 
and,  instead  of  knocking,  I  went  round  to  the  gallery. 
The  side  door  was  ajar,  and  I  stepped  in  just  asLuzelle 


1 68  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.        . 

was  coming  down  the  hall,  carrying  a  light.  She  was 
so  startled  at  seeing  me  that  she  almost  dropped 
the  lamp,  and  it  was  some  time  before  either  of  us 
spoke.  She  was  deathly  pale,  and  I  noticed  that  there 
were  dark  rings  under  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Burwood,"  she  said  with  a  gasp. 

With  a  desperate  effort  I  mastered  myself.  "  Is  the 
Colonel  in  the  library?"  I  asked. 

"  Why  did  you  come  back  here  to-night,  Mr.  Bur- 
wood?" 

"  I  hardly  know  —  I  hardly  know  anything  —  yes,  I 
know  that  Gap's  little  child  is  dead." 

Tears  gathered  in  her  eyes.  "  W7hy  didn't  they  let 
us  know  it  was  ill?"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Gap  is  so  pecul 
iar." 

"  Doubtless  she  had  no  one  to  send  word  by.  Gap 
is  in  town,  drunk.  " 

"  I  must  go  to  her  house  to-night,"  said  Luzelle, 
"  but  not  until  you  have  gone  away,  Mr.  Burwood." 

"  I  must  see  the  Colonel." 

"  You  must  not  go  into  the  library." 

"  I  must— I  will." 

Her  eyes  flashed,  and,  stepping  aside  and  waving  her 
hand  toward  the  door,  she  said: 

"  Then  go.      You  will  find  Boyd  Savely  in  there." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  WILD  RIDE. 

I  STEPPED  out  on  the  gallery,  and  was  closing  the 
door,  when  Luzelle  bade  me  wait  a  moment.  She  fol 
lowed  me.  One  second  the  blaze  of  the  lamp  was  yel 
low  and  dull  in  the  lightning's  vivid  glare,  and  then  all 
was  dark,  for  the  wind  had  blown  the  yellow  blaze 
away. 

"  Mr.  Burwood,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  uneven  tones, 
you  must  leave  here  at  once  —  you  must  not  attempt  to 
see  anybody.  The  Savelys  are  straining  every  nerve 
to  find  you.  Oh,  what  an  awful  night!  But  the  con 
sequences  of  your  staying  here,"  she  quickly  added, 
"  would  be  more  awful  than  facing  a  storm  ten  times 
worse  than  this.  I" — she  seemed  to  be  struggling 
with  herself — "  I  know  that  you  are  not  a  coward.  I 
ought —  but  go  now,  please.  Take  Fred's  horse  and 
gallop  away  with  the  storm.  Please  go,  this  minute, 
Mr.  Burwood." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  meet  Boyd  Savely,  even  if  I 
were  armed,  and  surely  I  should  be  a  fool  to  seek  him 
in  my  present  condition,  unarmed  and  almost  ex 
hausted.  I  will  go  away.  Will  you  please  bring  my 
valise?" 

She  hastened  away  and  soon  returned  with  the  valise. 
I  thought  that  I  felt  her  hand  upon  my  arm,  but  a 
flash  of  light  showed  me  that  she  was  gone. 

160 


1 70  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

Once  more  I  was  on  the  turnpike,  not  struggling 
wearily  along,  but  flying  almost  with  the  swiftness 
of  the  wind.  I  had  turned  toward  the  ridge  and  was 
soon  bounding  up  the  steep  "  dirt  road."  The  storm 
had  increased  in  violence,  and,  tearing  along  the 
rugged  gorges,  was  deeper  and  angrier  in  its  roar.  A 
tree  snapped,  crashed,  and  fell  across  the  road  in  front 
of  me.  The  horse  stopped,  snorted,  and  stood  still. 
I  was  at  the  Devil's  Elbow,  and  when  the  vivid  light 
ning  came  again  I  saw  the  spout  spring  pouring  out  a 
stream  of  fire.  The  horse  picked  his  way  through 
the  waving  "lap"  of  the  tree,  and  then  dashed  onward. 
The  top  of  the  ridge  was  soon  gained,  and  now  my  prog 
ress  was  slower,  for  the  road  was  heavy  with  mud.  I  had 
not  given  my  journey's  end  a  moment's  thought;  fancy's 
quick  pencil  had  not  even  drawn  a  misty  outline  of  the 
end  of  this  wild  ride,  but  now  I  began  to  awake  to  the 
importance  of  making  some  sort  of  draft  of  my  future 
intentions;  and  I  soon  settled  upon  the  advisability  of 
avoiding  thickly  populated  communities,  for  I  was  not 
only  fleeing  from  the  wrath  of  the  Savelys,  but  was  a 
fugitive  from  so-called  justice,  an  escaped  prisoner  for 
whom  a  reward  would  undoubtedly  be  offered.  The 
storm  began  to  abate,  its  full-grown  fury  seeming  to 
have  forced  its  dreadful  company  upon  me  no  farther 
than  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  As  it  was  not  safe  to 
follow  the  road,  I  turned  aside  into  the  woods  and  let 
the  horse  select  his  own  way.  Sometimes  the  hanging 
loop  of  a  grape  vine  almost  dragged  me  from  the 
saddle,  and  sometimes  a  saw-briar  gave  me  a  merci 
less  raking,  but  after  a  while  the  horse  struck  a  path 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  \*j\ 

and  slowly  followed  it.  I  soon  came  to  a  small  clear 
ing,  and,  a  little  farther  on,  the  gleaming  of  a  light  re 
vealed  the  whereabouts  of  a  human  habitation.  A  feel 
ing  of  thankfulness  arose  within  me  when  a  trembling 
beam  came  out  from  that  light  and  fell  upon  my  loneli 
ness;  but  a  shudder  drove  the  thankfulness  away,  foi 
I  realized  that  I  was  an  outcast,  hunted  by  desperate 
men  and  by  officers  of  the  law.  The  horse  showed  a 
strong  inclination  to  go  to  the  house.  My  inclination 
was  just  as  strong,  for  I  was  wet  and  cold,  but  my 
judgment  held  me  back.  The  storm  had  subsided, 
having  sunk,  with  a  low  growl,  into  the  deep 
gorge  just  below  the  spout  spring.  Occasionally  the 
moon  showed  her  face  through  flying  fragments  of 
clouds.  A  "  rooster  "  crew,  and  an  old  hen  made  a 
peculiar  noise — a  noise  which  a  chicken  never  makes 
during  the  day  and  which  always  proclaims  some 
petty  midnight  annoyance.  The  horse  jerked  the 
bridle  reins  by  impatiently  thrusting  his  nose  forward, 
and  snorted,  it  appeared,  to  attract  attention. 

"  Go  on,  then,"  I  said,  "  but  if  it  should  prove  to  be 
a  dangerous  place,  you  will  have  to  stretch  your  legs 
again. " 

I  reined  up  within  a  few  feet  of  the  door  and  hal 
looed.  The  door,  grating  loudly  on  the  boards  be 
neath,  was  jerked  open  far  enough  for  a  man  to  thrust 
his  head  out. 

"  Who's  thar?  "  a  voice  demanded. 

"  A  wet,  cold  and  worn-out  man,"  I  answered. 

"  It  don't  make  no  diffunce,  then,  who  you  air;  Might 


an'  come  in." 


172 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  May  I  ask  who  lives  here?" 

"  Yes,  jest  as  cheap  as  not  to,  but  it  mout  be  savin' 
some  little  time  for  me  to  say  that  nobody  don't  live 
here." 

"  May  I  ask,  then,  who  you  are  ?" 

"  As  I  ain't  got  no  cause  to  kiver  up  my  name,  it 
would  be  putty  nearly  right  and  proper  to  ask  me  that 
question.  I  am  Major  T.  Patterson,  known  all  over 
this  and  'j'ining  counties  as  Gentle  Tobias." 

Before  he  had  ceased  speaking  I  was  on  the  ground. 
Never,  to  me,  had  so  screaking  a  voice  borne  such 
welcome  strains  of  music. 

"  Why,  set  fire  to  my  hide !"  exclaimed  the  old  fel- 
,  ow,  when  I  made  myself  known.  "  If  you  haven't 
Ound  a  place  where  you  can  rest,  holy  Moses  wasn't 
ttothin'  but  a  county  surveyor.  Hold  on,  let's  put  your 
nag  in  the  stable  right  round  thar.  Come  round  this 
way.  A  tree  blowed  down  thar  to-night,  an'  hanged 
ef  I  didn't  think  I  was  goin'  to  be  squashed  right  out 
on  my  own  hearthstone.  I  won't  ask  you  a  word 
abou\t  that  affair  in  town  till  we  go  in  the  house  and  set 
down  I  come  away  early,  for  I  saw  thar  was  goin'  to 
be  trouble,  and  I  was  afeerd  that  if  I  stayed  I  couldn't 
keep  out  of  it,  so  I  straddled  my  old  mar*  and  come 
on  up  here.  I  own  a  few  acres  of  land  here,  and  put 
this  cabin  of  peace  on  it  some  time  ago.  I  call  it  the 
cabin  of  peace,  because  I  come  here  whenever  I  think 
there  mout  be  danger  of  me  gettin'  into  a  scrimmage. 
And  you  was  out  in  all  that  storm?  Twinges  of 
rheumatiz  have  kept  me  awake,  or  I  mout  not  have 
been  up  to  receive  you." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


173 


During  the  delivery  of  these  remarks  he  had  been 
busily  engaged  putting  feed  into  a  trough. 

"  Yes,  built  this  cabin  'way  up  here,  but  don't  come 
to  it  as  often  as  I  used  to,  for  old  age,  that  years  ago  I 
could  jest  stand  on  tiptoe  and  see  pokin'  up  his  head 
over  the  hill,  can  reach  out  and  tech  me  now.  Let's 
go  in." 

The  room  contained  but  a  few  articles  of  rude  furni 
ture.  A  log  fire,  in  an  immense  fire-place,  had  sunk 
into  a  comfort-giving  smoulder,  and  a  lamp  placed 
high  upon  a  shelf  had  driven  the  shadows  into  a 
corner.  I  sat,  foolishly  musing,  wondering  if  the 
shadows  had  followed  me  from  the  jail. 

"  Come,"  said  the  Major,  "  tell  me  about  the  scrim 
mage,  and  then  we'll  eat  a  snack  and  go  to  bed.  What 
time  is  it,  anyhow?" 

It  was  only  two  o'clock.  What  an  age  I  had  passed 
through  since  noon!  I  gave  the  old  man  an  extended 
account  of  the  fight  —  drew  out  the  thread  of  detail, 
for  I  saw  his  old  eyes  grow  young  with  delight. 

"  Good!  "  he  said,  when  I  had  finished;  and  then  he 
sai  m  silence,  gazing  into  the  fire  that  seemed  to  have 
grown  gray  with  him.  His  eyes  were  old  again. 

"  My  father  and  brothers  were  killed,"  he  said. 
"  One  night,  when  I  was  a  child,  my  father  set  rockin' 
me  and  tellin'  me  about  his  bear-trap,  'way  up  the 
creek  *n  the  hills.  Somebody  hollered,  'Helloa!* 
My  father  put  me  down  and  opened  the1  door.  A 
gun  fired  out  in  the  dark,  and  he  fell  back  dead." 

He  aroused  himself  with  a  jerk,  and  his  peculiar  air 
of  timidity  came  back  to  him. 


174 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  What  you  reckon  I've  got  to  eat?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  no  idea." 

"  A  'possum,  or  Aaron  was  a  county  jedge.  Bought 
him  from  a  nigger  and  brought  him  right  on  up  here 
to  nibble  at  when  I  felt  lonesome.  Kivered  him  with 
sweet  potatoes  and  baked  him.  Had  just  tuck  him  off 
to  cool  when  you  hollered.  Now,  my  son,  we'll  put 
him  on  the  table.  You  may  talk  of  stuff  to  eat, 
turkey  and " 

Some  one  rapped  at  the  door.  "  Who  s  thar?"  the 
Major  demanded. 

"  Tag  Moss  and  rHamp  Savely,"  a  voice  replied. 

"  What  do  you  want?  " 

"  Want  to  come  in." 

"Sho  nuff?" 

"Yes." 

"  Wall,  you  better  go  on  to  the  next  house.  It  ain't 
as  fur  away  as  this  one." 

"  Open  this  door!  " 

"  Kain't.  An  old  woman  put  a  snake  bone  under 
the  sill." 

"  Open  this  door,  I  tell  you!  " 

"What  for?" 

"  We  want  to  come  in.  We  want  to  see  who's 
inside." 

"  Nobody  in  here  but  me,  honey." 

"  Who  are  you  talkin'  to,  then?  " 

"  A  d d  fool  on  the  outside." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  Who  were  you  talkin'  to 
when  we  came  up  ?  " 

"Talkin' to  myself." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Well,  you  open  this  door  or  we'll  break  it  down." 

"  Look  here,  children,  do  you  know  whose  door 
this  is  ?  " 

"  No,  and  we  don't  care." 

"  Well,  you'd  better  care.  This  door  is  the  property 
of  Tobias  Patterson." 

"  What  !      Is  that  you,  Major  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  is  the  old  man,  a-sittin*  under  his  own 
fig-tree." 

"  You  say  you  are  alone,  Major  ?  " 

"  No,  not  alone,  boys.  I  was  jest  jokin*  with  you 
about  that.  My  wife  is  here  with  me." 

"  We  are  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you.  " 

"  Not  a-tall.  Good-by.  Turkey  and  patridges,  but 
a  'possum  lays  over  everything.  Why,  suh,  'possum- 
grease  will  cure  all  ailments  of  the  stomach." 

"  Have  they  gone  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Who?" 

"  Those  men." 

"  Oh,"  (with  a  chuckle),  "  they've  been  gone  some 
time.  Jest  draw  up  your  chair.  Yes,  been  gone 
some  time.  They  know  that  the  Major  wouldn't  tell  a 
lie.  Eat,  my  son,"  he  added,  becoming  serious. 
"  They  won't  Come  back,  for  in  the  first  place  they 
believed  what  I  said,  and  in  the  second  place  they 
don't  want  a  row  with  me.  Thar  used  to  be  fellers, 
my  son,  that  thought  they  could  run  over  Tobey,  but 
Tobey's  rule  was  always  to  make  a  feller  take  off  his 
boots  before  runnin'  over  him.  How  does  the  'possum 
hit  you  ?  " 

"  With  a  soothing  paw,"  I  answered. 


1 76  A  KENTUCKY  COL ONEL. 

"  Look  here,  you  air  a  smart  man.  Ought  to  be 
practicin'  law  right  now.  I  tell  you  that  when  a  man 
shakes  off  the  vanity  of  this  world  and  gets  right  down 
and  acknowledges  that  'possum  is  velvet,  why,  he's  got 
the  judgment  that  ought  to  carry  him  right  up  on  the 
supreme  bench.  Now,  here's  a  piece  that  would  make 
a  saint's  jaws  fly  apart.  " 

The  old  man  kept  up  an  almost  continuous  talk  dur 
ing  the  meal,  stopping  only  to  chuckle  or  to  listen  for 
the  recurrence  of  some  fancied  noise  outside. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  when  the  meal  was  finished,  "  you 
pile  right  on  to  that  bed  over  there  and  go  to  sleep, 
and  it  don't  make  no  difference  how  late  you  think  it 
is,  don't  git  up  till  I  tell  you.  Got  to  sleep  if  you  ever 
expect  to  do  anything  in  this  world.  If  I  was  goin'to 
be  hung  and  had  but  two  hours  to  live,  I'd  sleep  one 
hour  so  I'd  be  in  good  shape  to  meet  my  engagement. 
Don't  you  be  skittish  a-tall  now,  but  go  right  to  sleep, 
for  I'm  goin'  to  set  around  here  —  and  let  me  tell  you, 
my  son,  it  is  said  all  over  Shellcut  that  a  man  is  never 
in  any  particular  danger  so  long  as  he's  Patterson's 
guest." 

I  soon  fell  asleep,  and  when  I  awoke  the  sun  was 
shining.  The  table  was  set,  and  a  coffee-pot  gurgled  on 
the  coals.  The  old  Major  sat  in  a  large  rocking-chair, 
made  of  hickory  saplings. 

"  Awake,  eh?^  Well,  you  may  get  up  now;  still 
you've  got  plenty  of  time,  as  it's  only  twelve  o'clock 
by  the  sun  and  nearly  that  time  by  your  watch.  Step 
right  to  the  door,  and  I'll  pour  a  gourd  of  water  so  you 
can  wash.  Been  thinkin'  about  bringin'  a  wash-Dan 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

up  hire,  but  then,  in  a   place  of  this  sort  I  reckon  it's 
better  not  to  have  any  of  the  evidences  of  pride." 

He  chuckled  with  a  far-away  sound,  and,  dipping 
water  from  a  large  green  powder-can,  used  as  a  bucket, 
followed  me  to  the  door  with  the  leaky  gourd. 

"  Has  anybody  been  here?  "  I  asked,  when  we  had 
sat  down  to  the  table. 

"  Haven't  seen  a  soul.  My  nearest  neighbor  lives  a 
right  smart  ja'nt  away,  and  I  don't  reckon  thar's  any 
visitors  in  the  community  that's  got  any  particular 
business  with  me.  I  have  been  thinkin*  as  to  the  best 
place  for  you  to  go  until  this  affair  blows  over,  and  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  if  I  was  in  your  place 
I'd  go  'way  across  the  hills,  cross  the  Cumberland  River 
and  engage  board  with  some  family  that  lives  putty 
much  outen  the  world.  Change  your  name,  and  that 
won't  be  much  danger  of  you  bein'  found  out." 

"  A  good  plan,  I  have  no  doubt,"  I  answered. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  and,  to  ?ce  that  you  git  out  of  this 
neighborhood  all  right,  I'll  ria»*  with  you  till  sundown. 
By  ridin*  putty  much  all  night,  you  can  reach  the  river 
by  mornin',  and  after  you  cross  it,  why,  I  don't  think 
you'll  be  in  any  danger.  Still,  you  better  take  a  pistol 
along  with  you." 

We  saddled  our  horses  immediately  after  breakfast, 
and,  without  pursuing  any  defined  path,  took  a  westerly 
course  across  the  hills.  The  day  was  beautiful,  with  a 
thousand  sparkles  from  the  water  that  dripped  from 
the  rocks,  and  with  many  a  frosted  leaf  whirling  and 
beaming  in  the  air.  The  country  was  extremely  wild, 
and  during  the  afternoon's  ride  we  saw  but  one  house, 

•p 


A  KENTUCKY  COL  ONEt. 

a  small  cabin  clinging  to  the  side  of  a  hill.  The  Majof 
entertained  me  with  many  a  quaint  story,  always  re 
ferring  in  a  modest  way  to  the  part  which  he  had  borne, 
When  the  sun  had  gone  down,  we  dismounted 
near  a  waterfall  and  ate  luncheon  in  the  twilight. 

"  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  right  you  will  find 
a  road,"  said  the  Major,  when  we  had  arisen  to  bid 
each  other  good-by.  "  It  will  take  you  straight  to 
the  river." 

"  You  are  well  acquainted  even  in  this  wild  place,"  I 
answered. 

"  Yes,  I've  had  to  hide  out  here,  but  that  was  long 
ago,  my  son,  when  there  were  a  number  of  fellers  that 
thought  they  could  run  over  Tobias.  The  country  is 
not  so  wild,  however,  as  you  think  it  is.  We  haven't 
seen  any  houses  to-day,  for  the  reason  that  I've  guided 
you  away  from  them.  I'll  stop  at  Osbury's  on  my  way 
to  town  and  tell  him  that  you  are  safe.  He's  one  of 
the  best  men  that  ever  lived,  and  he  thinks  the  world 
of  you,  my  son.  Last  t^rne  he  was  in  town  he  didn't 
talk  to  me  about  anything  else  but  you  and  his  book. 
You  must  excuse  me,  but  — now,  you  won't  be  offended 
if  I  ask  you  something,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Surely  not,  Major. " 

"Honest,  now  —  come,  my  son,  honest?"  He 
placed  one  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"  You  may  ask  me  anything,  Major,"  said  I,  won 
dering  what  he  could  mean. 

"  W*H,  now,  it's  this:  Thar  air  times,  you  know, 
when  all  sorts  of  questions  have  to  be  asked.  The 
question  is,  have  you  got  any  money  ?  " 


£  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

I  have  enough,  my  dear  friend. " 
f^ell,  now,  I've  got  a  few  dollars  here  that  I  don't 
*>v,4,  and  when  I've  got  a  dollar  that  I  don't  owe,  my 
son,  I  don't  know  what  the  deuce  to  do  with  it. " 

"  I  don't  need  any  money,  Major,"  I  replied,  seizing 
his  hand. 

"  WelVk  then,  I  won't  push  it  on  you.  Good-by. 
Keep  the  road  till  you  get  to  the  river.  If  anybody 
asks  who  you  air,  say  you  air  a  circuit-rider." 

I  rode  all  night,  and  at  early  morning  came  to  the 
river.  The  ferryman  had  evidently  not  heard  of  the 
Shellcut  feud  (although  such  news  travels  rapidly),  for 
he  did  not  regard  me  with  suspicion.  As  he  was  row 
ing  me  across,  in  his  dangerous-looking  old  boat,  I 
asked  him  several  questions  with  regard  to  the  neigh 
borhood,  and,  just  before  reaching  the  other  side  of  the 
stream,  he  asked  who  I  was.  I  told  him  that  I  was  a 
circuit-rider,  whereupon  he  showed  much  concern. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  suthin',"  said  he.  "  Do  you 
b'lieve  that  when  a  man  falls  from  grace  he's  as  wuss 
off  ez  he  wuz  befo'?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  I  answered. 

"  Wall,  I'm  afeerd  he  is.  I  professed  last  fall,  but 
about  a  month  ago  I  fell  in  the  river  an' lost  my  hat  an' 
couldn't  help  but  cuss  a  little,  an'  sence  then  I  cuss  mo'n 
I  ever  did.  I  b'lieve  in  pra'r,  an'  ef  you'll  pray  with  me 
I  won't  charge  you  nothin'  fur  settin'  you  over." 

I  was  willing  to  tell  a  lie,  for  just  at  that  time  lying 
was  one  of  the  features  of  my  profession,  but  I  was  not 
willing  to  profane  the  office  of  circuit-rider  by  getting 
down  Q&  my  knees  and  praying  with  an  old  fellow 


igo  *  KENTUCKY  COLONEL, 

whose  ignorance  was  not  bliss  and  whose  only  religion 
was  a  superstitious  fear. 

"  You  can  do  more  for  yourself  than  I  can  do  for 
you,"  I  answered. 

"  No,  I  don't  b'lieve  I  ken.  Together  we  mout  sorter 
'suade  the  Lawd." 

"  That  would  be  impossible." 

"  Wall,  I  think  so  anyhow;  an*  ef  I  think  so  it  makes 
a  good  deal  uv  diffunce.  The  Lawd  said  suthin'  about 
whar  a  few  wuz  gathered  together  in  His  name,  an'  so 
on,  an*  I  reckon  you  better  pray  with  me." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  haven't  time." 

He  said  no  more  until,  after  reaching  the  shore  I 
was  preparing  to  mount. 

"  I'll  give  your  money  back  ef  you   will  pray  with 


me." 


"  No,  I  am  pressed  for  time. 

"  I'm  great  mine  to  snatch  you  often  that  horse  an' 
waller  you,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  b'lieve  you  air  a 
preacher  ter  hurt,  nohow." 

I  looked  back  and  saw  him  drinking  from  a  bottle. 

Now  the  country  was  just  rugged  enough  to  be 
interesting.  The  road  wound  its  way  through  a  valley, 
here  and  there  crossing  a  swollen  stream.  I  passed 
many  rude  farm-houses,  and  sometimes  a  shouting  boy 
would  sail  a  flat  stone  at  me  and  then  clap  his  hands 
in  exultation  if  the  accuracy  of  his  calculation  chanced 
to  make  me  dodge.  Sometimes  I  saw  women  and 
children  digging  ginseng  root  on  the  side  of  a  wild 
slope,  and  when  evening  came  I  heard  the  low  hum  of 
\  spinning-wheel.  I  took  this  as  a  homely  in^ilatiop 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  \  g  I 

to  stop,  and,  riding  up  to  a  fence  where  a  woman  was 
milking  a  cow  that  looked  as  though  she  could  have 
rivaled  the  speed  of  a  deer,  I  asked  if  I  could  find^ac- 
commodations  for  the  night. 

"  You'll  have  to  see  pap,"  she  aswered. 

I  saw  "  pap,"  who  said  that  if  I  could  put  up  with 
his  way  of  living,  I  might  stay.  I  told  him  I  could 
put  up  with  anything,  and,  slapping  a  yellow  dog  out 
of  the  door  and  bestowing  upon  me  an  equally  yellow 
grin,  he  replied: 

"  Wall,  I  reckon   you've   struck    about    the    right 
«        »> 
place. 

I  was  anxious  to  know  whether  they  had  heard  of 
the  Shellcut  fight,  and  at  the  supper  table  I  asked 
several  sly  questions,  soon,  to  my  relief,  discovering 
that  they  had  never  heard  of  Emryville,  and  that, 
living  in  Tennessee,  thirty  miles  from  the  State  line, 
they  had  but  a  vague  belief  that  such  a  common- 
wealth  as  Kentucky  was  in  existence. 

I  was  in  the  saddle  again  by  daylight  the  next 
morning.  The  valley  came  to  an  abrupt  end,  and, 
following  first  one  road  and  then  another,  I  crossed 
many  a  hill  before  the  afternoon  was  far  advanced. 

When  the  shadows  of  the  great  trees  had  begun  to 
grow  long;  when  evening,  with  a  cool  approach,  began 
to  blow  a  chilly  sigh,  I  dismounted  at  a  gate  in  front 
of  a  large,  double  log  house.  The  neighborhood  was 
rude,  but  not  uninviting,  and  the  house,  with  a  dense 
roll  of  smoke  issuing  from  its  stack  chimney,  bore  a 
comfortable  appearance.  I  stood,  half  dreamily  look- 
tag  at  the  scene.  The  house  faced  a  stream 


1 82  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

murmured  through  a  valley  far  below,  and  just  beyond 
the  gate,  approached  by  a  smooth  path  that  crossed  a 
lane,  a  spout  spring  flowed.  A  horse  and  a  mule  were 
biting  at  each  other  in  a  lot  near  by;  yellowhammers, 
cold  enough  to  be  frisky,  were  twittering  and  flirting 
with  one  another  in  a  cedar  tree;  a  calf  bawled,  and  a 
cow,  standing  in  the  lane,  shook  her  head  and  blew 
her  breath  at  me.  J;.st  as  I  had  opened  the  gate  a 
woman  came  out  in  the  broad,  open  hallway  dividing 
the  two  sections  of  the  house,  looked  at  me  wonder- 
ingly,  scolded  a  bristling  dog  into  meek  obedience,  ans1 
called  out : 

"  Come  on  in  ;  he  won't  bite  you.  Ain't  nothin' 
but  a  puppy." 

She  shied  somewhat  when  I  stepped  up  into  the 
hallway,  and  when  I  asked  her  if  I  could  stay  over 
night  she  replied  that  she  did  not  know  until  "  pap  " 
came.  Just  then  "  pap  "  came  up  to  the  gate  with  a 
number  of  squealing  shoats  at  his  heels. 

"  Pap,"  said  the  woman,  "this  man  wants  to  stay 
all  night." 

"  Wall,  we've  never  turned  nobody  away  yit.  How 
do?  "  he  added,  turning  to  me.  "  Step  right  inside." 

I  followed  him  into  a  large  room.  A  churn  with  a 
dinner  plate  on  top  of  it  stood  near  the  fireplace,  and 
a  spinning-wheel  and  a  pair  of  winding-blades  occupied 
one  corner.  A  rag  carpet  on  the  floor  and  a  heavy 
center-table,  upon  which  several  books  lay,  bespoke 
an  attempt  at  refinement.  The  man  was  not  ill- 
looking  ;  he  wore  a  closely  cropped  gray  beard,  but 


KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  \  gj 

his  hair  was  long.  His  wife's  face  was  thin  and  sallow; 
she  had  bad  teeth,  and  carried  the  aspect  of  overwork. 

"  The  boys  will  put  your  hoss  away  when  they 
come,"  said  the  man  ;  "so  you  may  jest  set  right  down 
here  an' make  yo'se'f  at  home." 

"  The  boys,"  added  the  woman,  as  she  took  up  a 
long-stem  pipe  and  thrust  it  among  the  burning  coals, 
"  air  at  school.  They  1'arn  mighty  fast,  too.  We 
hain't  been  havin'  many  schools  round  here,  an'  when 
Miss  Hatton  tuck  up,  w'y,  we  jest  all  nachully  sont  to 
her.  Mighty  fine  teacher,  too,  an*  is  a  mighty  pleasant 
body  to  have  about.  She  bo'ds  with  us.  They  are 
comin'  now,  pap." 

The  man  went  out,  and  I  heard  him  giving  instruc 
tions  concerning  my  horse.  The  teacher,  a  tall 
woman,  came  into  the  room,  and,  without  appearing 
to  have  seen  me,  stood  near  a  bed,  taking  offher  gloves. 
Her  voice,  when  she  spoke  to  the  woman,  was  soft  and 
low,  and  I  naturally  expected  to  see  a  handsome  face, 
but  in  the  gathering  dusk  I  could  not  see  her  features. 
A  chunk  fell.  The  fire  blazed  up.  I  saw  Ella  Mayhew. 

"  Miss  Hatton,"  said  the  farmer's  wife,  this  is  —  you 
did  not  tell  me  your  name!  "  she  added  confusedly. 

"  My  name  is  Collins,"  I  answered. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Collins,"  said  "  Miss  Hatton," 
bowing.  "  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  light  a  lamp, 
Mrs.  Grider?  " 

The  teacher  did  not  recognize  me,  and  while  con 
gratulating  myself!  felt  much  disposed  to  thank  her  for 
so  great  a  kindness. 


184  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

*  You  are  traveling,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Collins, "she said, 
seating  herself  with  well-bred  ease. 

11  Yes,  for  my  health,"  I  answered. 

"  You  will  find  this  pure  air  quite  invigorating.  I 
had  to  leave  the  city  on  account  of  my  health.  " 

I  imagined,  just  then,  that  she  was  my  equal  in  the 
art  of  lying. 

"  What  city  are  you  from?  "  I  asked. 

"Nashville  —  a  charming  old  place,  with  such  old 
and  refined  society.  But  I  had  to  leave." 

I  did  not  doubt  it. 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  be  in  this  part  of  the 
country?  "  she  asked,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Until  I  feel  that  it  would  be  safe  for  me  to  return," 
I  answered,  with  a  grim  desire  to  tell  the  truth. 

"  What  place  are  you  from?  " 

"Louisville." 

"  Ah,  a  dear  old  town !  I  have  spent  many  a  delight 
ful  hour  visiting  my  friends  there.  Are  you  pretty 
well  acquainted  throughout  Kentucky?" 

"Not  very  well." 

"  Is  there  not  a  county  in  that  State  called  Shad  well  ?" 

"Not  that  I  know." 

"  Let  me  see;  is  it  Shadwell?  Oh,  no,"  she  added, 
"itisShellcuM  think." 

"  Yes,  I  havefteard  of  Shellcut  County." 

"  My  father  had  a  very  devoted  friend  ivho  lived  out 
there,"  she  continued.  "His  name  —  let  me  see  — 
was  Osburv,  I  think.  A  Colonel  Osbury,  I  believe." 

"  I  h'^<re  heard  of  him,"  I  rejoined. 
Quite  a  distinguished,  or,    rather,    quite   a   well- 


A  KENTUCKY  COL  ONEL.  185 

known  family,"  she  went  on.  "  He  had  a  son,  a  little 
boy  to  whom  my  father  was  much  attached.  I  wonder 
whatever  became  of  him." 

"  He  is  married,  and " 

"  What!  again  ? —  I  mean,  married  so  young?  Mar 
ried,  did  you  say?  " 

"  I  think  that  I  saw  an  announcement  of  his  mar 
riage." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said,  with  apparent  relief.  Could 
it  be  that  she  was  wont  to  draw  a  soothing  thought 
from  the  belief  that  the  boy  still  loved  her,  and  that  a 
proof  of  his  fickleness  smote  her  heart? 

The  boys  came  into  the  room.  They  were  near 
enough  in  size  to  be  twins,  and  were  near  enough  in 
similarity  of  sentimental  bent,  for  a  mere  glance  was 
sufficient  to  establish  a  strong  belief  that  they  were 
both  in  love  with  the  school-teacher.  One  of  them, 
till  and  with  the  tobacco-field  stoop  of  shoulders,  was 
named  President;  the  other,  equally  tall  if  not  equally 
humped,  was  named  Governor.  Their  father,  in  ex 
plaining  why  he  had  given  them  such  high  official 
names,  said: 

"  Wall,  we  didn't  want  to  name  'em  after  nobody  in 
particular,  for  a  body  never  knows  how  folks  air  goin' 
to  turn  out,  so  me  an'  ther  mother  concluded  that,  to 
be  on  the  safe  side  an'  at  the  same  time  have  high-up 
names  in  the  fam'ly,  we'd  jest  take  the  offices  'stead  o' 
the  men;  fur,  you  know,  the  men  mout  disgrace  the 
offices,  but  the  offices  kaint  disgrace  the  men.*' 

"  Don't  you  think  it  was   really   a   unique   idea? " 


1 8  6  A  KEN  TUCK  Y  COL  ONEL. 

Miss  Hatton   asked,  inclining  her  head  and  smiling  a* 
me. 

"Yes,  and,  fulfilling  its  mission,  insures  protection 
against  possible  humiliation." 

President  and  Governor  grnned  just  alike  while  we 
were  discussing  their  names,  and,  shortly  afterward, 
blushed  just  alike  when  the  teacher  sat  down  between 
them  at  the  supper-table.  I  could  not  determine  which 
was  the  favored  one.  but  naturally  supposed  that  Presi 
dent,  on  account  of  his  national  importance,  would  be 
preferable  to  Governor,  confined,  as  he  was,  by  state 
lines. 

"  My  young  friends  are  apt  students,"  said  Miss 
Hatton,  addressing  me. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Grider,  "  an*  we  want  to  push  'em 
right  inter  a  edycation.  It's  awful  fur  a  body  to  go 
through  life  an'  not  know  much." 

"  Wall,"  drawlingly  replied  her  husband,  "  1'arnin' 
ain't  ever'thing.  I  have  hearn  uv  many  a  smart  man 
goin'  to  the  penitentiary,  while  his  ignunt  neighbor 
jogged  along  putty  comfortable,  eatin'  his  hoe-cake  at 
mawnin'  an'  callin'  up  his  hogs  at  night.  My  daddy 
couldenter  read  his  name  ef  he'd  a  seed  it  painted  on 
the  barn,  but  he  lived  to  be  eighty-odd  year  old,  an' 
wa'n't  a  skilyton  when  he  died,  nuther.  Still,  I  want 
the  boys  to  pick  up  what  little  they  ken.  Which  way 
air  you  travelin',  mister?  " 

"  I  have  no  special  place  in  view,"  I  answered. 

"  Sorter  knockin'  round  loose,  I  reckon." 

"  Yes;  and  by  the  way,  I  should  like  to  engage  board 
with  you." 


. 

A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  187 

"  By  all  means!  "  exclaimed  Miss  Hatton.  "  This  is 
-.  delightful  place." 

President  and  Governor  frowned.  They  did  not 
look  with  approval  upon  the  sojourn  of  a  possible 
rival. 

"  Wall,"  said  Mr.  Grider,  "  it's  jest  ez  we  'lowed 
when  Miss  Hatton  wanted  to  stop  with  us.  Ef  you 
ken  put  up  with  pot-luck  an'  a  shuck  bed,  all  right." 

"  Now,  pap,"  said  his  wife,  with  an  air  of  embar 
rassment,  "  whut  do  you  wanter  make  out  ever'thing 
wus'n  it  is  fur  ?  We  don't  hatter  sleep  on  shucks,  an1 
I  reckon  we've  got  ez  much  to  eat  ez  most  folks." 

After  supper  the  boys  went  out  to  get  up  their  night's 
wood.  Mrs.  Grider  drew  out  her  spinning-wheel,  and 
her  husband  sat  down  near  the  wall,  leaned  back,  and 
soon  began  to  nod. 

"  The  appearance  of  a  stranger  always  creates  more 
or  less  of  a  sensation  among  these  people,"  Miss  Hat- 
ton  remarked,  in  an  undertone,  when  Mrs.  Grider, 
stretching  out  her  strand  of  yarn,  stepped  back  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room,  "  but  nothing  can  keep  that 
man  from  nodding  after  supper.  He'll  doze  there 
awhile,  get  up  just  before  bed-time,  roast  some  sweet 
potatoes,  eat  and  go  to  bed.  Being  a  stranger  to  you 
I  ought  not  to  make  such  a  remark,"  she  added,  with 
a  smile,  "  but  you  cannot  imagine  how  pleased  I  am 
with  the  prospect  of  your  remaining  here." 

She  waited  a  moment,  until  Mrs.  Grider  had 
stretched  out  another  strand  of  yarn,  and  then  con 
tinued:  "  Of  course,  these  are  kind-hearted  people, 
but  they  lack  that  refinement  and  that  intellectual  ease 


388  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

which  makes  life  in  society  so  charming.  Do  you 
paint,  Mr.  Collins?" 

"  I  have  no  ability  in  that  line,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  that  I  fancied  you  must  be  a 
painter?  Excuse  me,  but  you  have  the  air  of  an 
artist.  Did  you  bring  any  books  with  you?" 

"  Only  two  or  three  volumes  that  I  always  carry  in 
my  valise." 

"  Oh,  I  was  in  hopes  that  you  had  brought  a  whole 
trunk  full — but  you  came  horseback,  I  believe.  I 
would  so  much  like  to  know  what  is  going  on  in  the 
literary  world  —  in  the  fascinating  world  of  fiction. 
But  you  can't  get  anything  here.  The  post-office  is 
fifteen  miles  away." 

I  studied  her  face  closely.  Her  eyes  were  large  and 
brown;  her  smile  was  winning.  She  looked  younger 
than  she  had  appeared  when  Colonel  Osbury  drove  her 
from  his  house. 

President  and  Governor,  after  piling  logs  in  the 
hallway,  came  in  and  sat  in  silent  adoration  of  their 
divinity.  The  old  man  awoke  with  a  sneeze,  and, 
raking  out  a  bed  of  coals,  threw  a  number  of  sweet 
potatoes  into  the  fire.  Miss  Hatton  looked  at  me  and 
smiled;  the  boys  looked  at  me  and  frowned. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   ATTENTIVE  SCHOOL-TEACHER. 

THE  thought  of  banishment  was  a  constant  weight 
upon  me,  and  the  feeling  that  I  was  regarded  as  an 
outlaw  stung  me,  but  my  surroundings,  wild  and  grand, 
were  not  uncongenial.  On  the  hillsides,  where  the 
"  pipe-stem  "  cane  bunched  out  in  rich  and  evergreen 
foliage,  the  browsing  cows  rang  their  mellow-toned 
bells,  and  away  down  in  the  creek  bottoms,  where  the 
water,  shivering  with  the  chill  of  winter's  nearness, 
gurgled  around  a  projecting  rock,  there  arose  that  soft 
and  rippling  music  which  plays  a  gentle  accompaniment 
to  deep  musing,  and  which  makes  poetry,  not  an  idle 
speculation,  but  a  sublime  fact.  The  winter  bird  — 
shy  little  creature,  to  which  the  farmers  have  given  no 
name  —  sang  a  promise  of  a  spring-time  far  away  — 
of  a  spring  when  the  larger  bird  would  come  out,  and 
when  the  unknown  bird,  having  completed  his  work 
of  soft  encouragement,  would  go  away  and  be  seen 
no  more  until  a  cold  and  cutting  wind  warned  him 
that  his  soothing  services  were  needed  again. 

I  wondered  sometimes  whether  Miss  Hatton  (I  must 
thus  refer  to  her)  did  not  know  that  she  had  seen  me 
on  a  former  occasion,  but,  remembering  that  I  had 
stood  in  the  background  at  the  time  when  Fred  had 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

brought  her  home  as  his  wife,  my  fears  would  find 
immediate  rest. 

Every  day  I  discovered  some  new  peculiarity  in  old 
man  Grider.  He  had  been  brought  up  among  the 
negroes  of  Alabama,  and  naturally  shared  all  their 
superstitions.  He  believed  that  witches  rode  horses 
at  night,  and  one  morning  when  he  found  his  bay 
mare's  mane  tangled,  he  commanded  President,  who 
was  going  to  the  mill,  to  take  another  horse,  as  the 
mare  must  be  tired  after  her  night  of  galloping  over 
the  country. 

I  wrote  to  Colonel  Osbury,  telling  him  that  my  name 
was  J.  Collins,  and  I  waited  nervously  for  a  reply,  but 
no  letter  came.  I  saw  but  little  of  Miss  Hatton  and 
the  boys.  They  went  to  the  school-house  early  every 
morning,  except  Sunday,  and  did  not  return  until  the 
chickens  were  going  to  roost. 

As  the  days  grew  into  weeks;  when  the  splendor  of 
a  mountain  sunset  had  grown  to  be  a  matter  of 
course;  when  the  waving  tree-tops  murmured  only 
in  voices  of  retrospection,  I  became  weary  and  dull. 
The  old  joke  and  the  fireside  laugh  at  night  lost  their 
uniqueness,  and  I  sank  into  a  state  of  despondent 
brooding.  In  the  morning  I  was  chilly,  and  in  the 
evening,  when  the  sun  went  down,  I  would  hasten  to 
the  house,  for  the  air  that  brought  the  music  of  the 
cow-bells  also  brought  a  shiver.  I  could  see  noth 
ing  distinctly  —  nothing  but  a  face  that  was  ever  visible, 
in  the  sunlight  or  in  the  dusk;  a  face  more  lovable  be 
cause  I  could  see  its  defects  —  the  face  of  Luzelle. 
Sometimes  at  night  I  would  awake,  not  from  a  dream, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

but  from  a  rational  conviction  that  I  had,  one  wild 
night,  felt  her  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"  Look  here,"  said  old  man  Grider,  one  evening  at 
supper,  "  you  oughter  eat  more.  Better  pay  the 
butcher  than  the  doctor,  ez  the  sayin"  goes.  I  know 
you  ain't  doin'  no  work,  an'  you  ain't  doin"  much  in 
the  way  uv  stirrin'  round,  but  you  oughter  eat  more. 
W'y,  ef  I  didn't  have  nothin'  more  ter  do  than  sich 
men  ez  you  I  would  be  happier  than  a  lark.  It's  '  come 
day,  go  day,  God  send  Sunday,'  with  you,  I  reckon.'"* 

"  Do  try  some  of  these  here  pear  preserves,"  said 
Mrs.  Grider.  "  They  air  ez  sweet  ez  a  plum,  fur  I 
made  them  myself.  Miss  Hatton  'lows  they  air  mighty 
fine,  an*  I  reckon  you  ken  eat  'em." 

President  and  Governor  had  a  real  as  well  as  a  pros 
pective  rival.  An  old  widower  named  Stark  wor 
shiped  Miss  Hatton.  He  was  a  brown  jeans  old  fel 
low.  I  cannot  describe  him  in  any  other  way.  He 
wore  a  brown  jeans  "  westcut,"  and,  in  fact,  wore  a 
brown  everything.  His  hat  was  brown,  his  boots  were 
brown,  and  even  his  complexion  was  brown.  He 
owned  several  farms,  had  a  number  of  excellent 
horses,  owned  a  mill,  and  was,  in  fact,  regarded  as  the 
wealthiest  man  in  the  community.  The  boys  hated 
him  because  he  loved  Miss  Hatton,  and  despised  him 
because  he  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  his  affection. 

One  evening,  after  spending  a  nervous  day  —  a  day 
when  the  noontide  was  dull,  and  when  the  evening 
came  with  a  dreary  drag  —  I  walked  down  the  lonely 
road  leading  to  the  distant  post-office.  Weary  and 
depressed  with  many  an  unhealthful  fancy,  I  turned 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

aside  where  the  forest  was  deep  and  sat  down  on  a  log 
near  the  road,  and  had  given  myself  to  an  almost  self- 
forgetful  musing,  when  the  low  hum  of  words  reached 
me.  Soon  I  knew  that  Miss  Hatton  and  the  miller, 
Stark,  were  standing  beside  a  tree  near  me.  At  first  I 
thought  to  make  known  my  nearness  to  them,  but  then, 
half  lazy  and  half  unconcerned,  I  leaned  back  against 
a  sapling,  listlessly  inclined  to  let  everything  work  out 
its  own  result.  This  is  the  conversation  that  I  heard: 

"  I  am  not  looking  for  a  husband." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that,  miss.  I  am  the  last  man  to  say 
you  are.  You  have  been  a-teachin'  my  boys  long 
enough  forme  to  know  you  by  —  by- — " 

"  Reflex,"  she  suggested. 

"  Yes;  that's  it.  You  air  not  only  the  woman  I 
want,  but  air  the  woman  that  thinks  as  I  do.  Now,  I 
ain't  nothin'  but  a  plain  sort  uv  a  man.  I  ain't  got  no 
1'arnin'  —  no  book  1'arnin'  —  an'  I'm  glad  uv  it.  I  am  a 
American  citizen.  I've  got  a  place  fur  you,  an',  ef  you 
want  it,  w'y,  it's  yourn.  I  know  you  air  a  young 
critter  that  don't  know  much  about  the  world,  but  ef 
you  want  me  you  ken  have  me,  that's  all." 

After  a  few  moments  of  silence,  they  walked  on, 
going  down  deeper  into  the  valley.  I  went  to  the 
house  and  lay  on  the  lounge  in  the  sitting-room,  for  I 
felt  a  real  illness  creeping  upon  me.  I  dozed  off  into 
a  troubled  sleep,  and  was  awakened  by  voices  in  the 
room.  A  new  quilt,  still  on  the  frames,  was  stretched 
along  the  lounge,  and  I  was  thus  shielded  from  the 
view  of  any  one  who  might  enter  the  apartment. 
President  was  talking  to  the  teacher. 


- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


193 


"  Miss  Hatton,"  were  the  words  I  heard,  "  I  wanter 
say  suthin'  befo'  anybody  else  comes.  I  love  you. 
Other  folks  mout  say  more,  but  mout  not  mean  so 
much.  I  love  you,  an'  —  an' want  you— — -  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  that  I  love  you." 

"  Oh,  sit  down  over  there.  Do  you  think  I  am  a 
child?  " 

"No;  but " 

"  Oh,  well,  sit  down  there.  You  don't  know  what 
you  are  talking  about." 

"  Yes,  I  do.     Yes,  I  do  know.     Ef  that  old  fool  — -" 

"  You  don't  know  \yhat  you  mean,  D^ont  try  to  put 
your  arms  round  me.  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Been  making  love  to  you  an'—-" 

"  Nobody  has  been  making  love  to  me," 

"Old  Stark  has." 

"  He  has  not,  you  foolish  boy." 

"  Wall,  then,  that  feller  Collins  has." 

"  Oh,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  He  has 
not." 

"  Wall,  then,  Governor  has." 

"  Oh,  you  shameless  boy,  he  has  not.  Go  on  away, 
now.  Leave  me  alone.-  I  want  to  think.  I  must 
study." 

"  What  you  got  ter  think  about?" 

"  About  your  lessons." 

"  Wall,  my  lessons  air  all  right.  I  won't  go  till  you 
tell  me  that  you  love  me." 

"  I  think  a  great  deal  of  you." 

"  That  ain't  the  p'int.     Do  you  love  me?" 


194 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  Go  on,  President  —  take  your  arms  away  —  what  do 
you  mean?" 

"  Do  you  love  me?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  do." 

"  How  much?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know." 

"Tell  me." 

"Well,  very  much." 

"  More  than  anybody  in  the  world?" 

"  Yes.     Now,  go  on  and  leave  me  alone." 

A  deep  silence  followed.  "  Shall  I  speak  and  make 
my  presence  known?"  I  mused.  "Shall  I  get  up?" 
Just  then  Governor  stalked  into  the  room. 

"  Whar's  pap?"  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  teacher  answered. 

"  Where's  Pres?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"  Did  he  feed  the  hogs?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  Where's  mother?  " 

"  Milking,  I  suppose." 

"You  by  yourself?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Wasn't  Pres  here  just  now?  " 

"No." 

"Shonuff?" 

"No,  I  tell  you." 

"  I  thought  he  was.  Why  didn't  you  light  the 
lamp?" 

"  Because  I  didn't  want  to." 

"  Which  way  did  Pres  go?  " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  195 

*  I  don't  know  anything  about  him,  I  tell  you." 

"Must  I  sit  down?" 

"  If  you  want  to,  yes." 

"All  right,  I  will." 

A  few  moments  of  silence  followed.  A  chunk  fell 
—  the  fire  blazed  up.  I  heard  the  snapping  of  the 
tongs  that  threw  the  chunk  behind  the  fire. 

"  How  long  air  you  goin'  to  stay  here?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Governor.  How  long  do  you  think 
I  ought  to  stay?  " 

"  Till  I  say  go.  You  may  not  think  I'm  nothin'  but 
a  boy,  but  I'm  a  man.  I  don't  know  what  anybody 
else  has  said,  but  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife,  do  you 
hear?" 

"  Governor,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"  Here,  now,  I  don't  want  any  nonsense.  What  do 
you  say?  " 

"Say  to  what?" 

"  To  what  I  said.  Hurry  up,  fur  somebody  mout 
come." 

"  Oh,  I  never  did  see  such  a  boy! " 

"  An' you  mout  never  see  sich  another  one.  Hurry 
up,  an'  let  me  know  which  way  the  cat  jumps. " 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  using 
such  ridiculous  expressions." 

"  I  ain't  talkin'  about  bein'  ashamed.  I'm  askin' 
you  ter  be  my  wife,  me.  I  never  did  think  nothin' 
about  marryin'  till  I  saw  you.  These  wimen  folks 
'round  here  ain't  my  style.  I  like  ter  see  er  woman 
that's  a  high-stepper,  jest  like  er  fine  hoss,  an'  I  wanter 
say  that  you  air  about  the  highest  stepper  I  ever  seed. 


COLONEL. 

But  that  ain't  got  nothin'  ter  do  with  the  question. 
What  do  you  say?  " 

"  Oh,  go  on,  now,  please.  I  didn't  come  into  this 
neighborhood  to  be  married.  I  came  to  teach  school. " 

"  An'  I  didn't  come  inter  this  world  on  purpose  ter 
git  married,  nuther,  but  now  that  I'm  here  an'  don't 
find  no  law  ag'in  marryin',  w'y,  I'm  —  dad  blame  it, 
here  comes  pap.  We  mout  er  had  ever'thing  settled 
by  this  time.  Never  mind,  my  lady,  I'm  goin'  ter  ax 
Pres  ef  he's  made  love  ter  you,  an*  ef  he  has,  w'y,  the 
early  mornin'  wind  is  goin'  ter  blow  some  wool  around 
the  neighborhood." 

The  next  morning  I  was  too  ill  to  get  out  of  bed, 
and  as  the  day  advanced  a  rnind-blighting  fever  set 
tled  upon  me.  Then  there  followed  dreams  of  extreme 
anxiety  and  visions  of  trouble.  Sometimes  I  saw  the 
sun  shining  in  at  the  window,  and  then,  with  the  lapse 
of  a  mere  wink  of  time,  everything  was  shadowy  under 
the  lamp-light's  subdued  glow.  Sometimes  the  winter 
bird  twittered  in  a  tree  near  the  window,  and  then  a 
storm,  with  its  deep  roar,  came  down  from  the  hills 
and  made  the  old  house  tremble.  Sometimes  I  thought 
I  could  see  that  some  one  was  near  my  bed,  and  then, 
a  moment  later,  I  would  feel  that  I  had  been  alone  for 
days  at  a  time.  One  morning  I  awoke  to  a  new  sense 
of  my  surroundings,  and  my  first  rational  thought  was 
that  I  must  have  been  asleep  for  a  long  time,  for  the 
odd  ends  and  the  tangled  beginnings  of  many  a  wild 
dream  came  up,  demanding,  I  fancied,  identification 
and  assortment.  Miss  Hatton  was  in  the  room.  I 


- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  197 

spoke  to  her.  She  turned  from  a  looking-glass  that 
stood  on  a  home-made  table. 

"  You  must  be  better  this  morning,"  she  said. 

"  I  am.     What  day  is  it?" 

"  Sunday,"  she  answered. 

"  Have  I  been  in  bed  ever  since  Friday?" 

"  You  have  been  unconscious  for  three  weeks.  You'd 
better  not  talk  very  much.  The  doctor " 

"  Has  a  doctor  been  to  see  me?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  didn't  know  anything.  Deliver  me 
from  an  old-time  country  doctor.  I  was  going  to  say 
that  he  gave  you  up.  You  appeared  to  improve  after 
his  visits  ceased.  But  you  must  not  talk  any  now.  The 
folks  have  all  gone  to  church.  The  boys  wanted  to 
stay  with — you,  but  I  wouldn't  let  them.  How  do  you 
feel?" 

"  I  feel  well  enough,  but  I  am  very  weak." 

"  Oh,  how  you  did  rave!" 

A  sudden  fear  seized  me.  In  my  delirium  I  must 
have  revealed  my  identity. 

"  What  did  I  say?" 

"  You  seemed  to  be  in  a  fight  and  talked  about  a  girl 
named  Lucy.  Who  is  she?" 

"  My  sister." 

"  No.  Men  don't  rave  over  their  sisters.  Men  don't 
quote  poetry  to  their  sisters —  don't  tell  them  that  they 
are  dying  of  love  for  them.  Who  is  Lucy?" 

"  I  don't  know. " 

"  I  thought  you  said  she  was  your  sister?" 

"  I  have  a  sister  named  Lucy."  I  was  not  too  weak 
to  tell  a  lie.  She  shook  her  head  at  me.  Her  hair 


19-8  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

fell  about  her  shoulders,  and  so  luxuriant  was  it  that, 
weak  and  susceptible  to  odd  impressions,  I  thought  that 
she  must  be  a  consumptive. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  to  eat?"  she  asked. 

"No." 

"  Let  me  boil  an  egg  for  you. " 

"  I  can't  eat  anything." 

"  Let  me  read  to  you,  then.  Here  is  a  newspaper 
with  a  long  account  of  a  desperate  affair  in  Kentucky. 
Shall  I  read  it?" 

"  I  don't  care  to  hear  it." 

"  But  if  I  were  to  read  a  little  of  it  you'd  crave  the 
rest.  It's  very  thrilling;  all  about  an  awful  feud;  how 
a  young  man  named  Burwood " 

"  I  don't  care  to  hear  it." 

"  Let  me  read  you  a  description  of  the  hero.  It 
won't  take  but  a  minute."  She  took  up  a  paper  and 
read  as  follows: 

He  looked  more  like  a  dreamer  than  a  fighter,  and 
it  is  said  that  he  did  not  want  to  fight  until  he  was 
shoved  into  it.  Some  say  that  he  is  a  Pinkerton  de 
tective;  others  declare  that  his  connection  with  the 
discovery  of  the  bank  robber  was  wholly  accidental. 
Regardless  of  prospective  family  ties,  the  Osburys 
stand  up  for  him;  probably  they  were  won  by  his 
engaging  appearance.  He  is  tall,  with  dark,  curling 
hair,  brown  eyes,  classic  features,  inclined  to  muse 
rather  than  to  talk,  and  is " 

11  Please  don't  read  any  more,"  I  pleaded. 

"  Isn't  it  interesting?" 

"Not  to  me." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


I99 


"  Well,  then,  I  won't  read  it.  I  will  put  it  aside 
until  you  are  stronger," 

"  Put  it  aside  permanently." 

"  Why  do  you  object  to  it  so  seriously?" 

"  I  don't  object  to  it,  but  simply  don't  care  to  hear 
it." 

"  Shall  I  tear  up  the  paper? 

"  If  you  please." 

"  I  will."  She  tore  the  paper  and  threw  it  into  q. 
box.  A  setting  hen  uttered  a  complaint.  "  These 
people  have  setting  hens  all  over  the  house,"  she  said. 
"  I  meet  them  on  the  stairway  going  to  their  nests  and 
find  them  under  the  table  at  meal-time." 

"  How  are  you  getting  along  with  your  school?  "  I 
asked. 

"  We  have  had  no  school  for  some  time.  In  fact, 
seeing  that  Mrs.  Grider  hadn't  time  to  take  care  of 
you,  I  suspended  the  school  shortly  after  you  were 
taken  ill." 

I  thanked  her;  but  deep  within  myself  I  felt  a  strong 
indignation,  for  I  believed  that  she,  thinking  that  I  was 
in  an  easy  condition  financially,  was  endeavoring  to 
win  me. 

Several  days  later,  it  may  have  been  a  week,  I 
awoke  to  find  Miss  Hatton  in  the  room.  She  had 
been  in  constant  attendance,  but  on  this  occasion 
I  saw  her  better  than  I  had  ever  seen  her  before, 
for  I  noticed  a  peculiar  flush  on  her  cheeks  and  a  deep- 
burning  light  in  her  eyes.  After  smoothing  my  pillow, 
she  sat  down  on  a  trunk  near  the  window.  Sunlight 
streamed  into  the  room,  and  for  the  first  time  (how 


2OO  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

slow  we  sometimes  are  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of 
appearances)  I  noticed  that  she  was  a  decided  blonde. 
Could  it  be  true  that  I  was  a  mere  muser  and  that  con 
victions  and  conclusions  came  slowly  to  me,  like 
the  thoughts  that  remind  us  of  dreams  of  long 
ago? 

11  You  are  very  much  better  to-day,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  feel  stronger." 

"  The  boys  have  gone  to  the  mill.  They  went  away 
quarreling." 

I  knew  why,  but  I  said  nothing.     She  continued: 

"  Mr.  Grider  and  his  wife  have  gone  to  visit  a  neigh 
bor.  The  doctor  came  again  after  he  learned  that  you 
were  likely  to  recover.  He  had  the  kindness  to  tell 
me  that  his  advice,  so.  strictly  followed,  had  brought 
you  out  all  right.  His  natural  inclination  to  be  a  fool, 
strange  to  say,  has  not  hurt  his  propensity  for  being  a 
liar.  Can  I  do  anything  for  you?  " 

"  Nothing,"  I  answered. 

She  sat  in  silence  for  some  time.  The  sunlight 
which  fell  upon  her  face  showed  no  defects.  She  was 
handsome,  and  she  influenced  me,  yet  I  knew  her. 
Ah,  handsome  woman,  even  though  men  know  your 
waywardness,  you  are  a  power.  Your  smile  makes  a 
dupe  of  us.  We  may  not  love  you,  but  we  feel  your 
strength.  But  I  laughed  at  this  woman,  for  when  we 
recognize  a  strength  we  have  discovered  a  weakness. 

"  What  book  is  that  you  have?  "  I  asked. 

"  It's  nothing  but  a  woman's  nonsense  in  paper  cov 
ers.  Shall  I  read  to  you?" 

"No;   I  couldn't  understand  it." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  2OI 

"  I  have  Hawthorne.  Shall  I  read  some  of  his 
*  Twice  Told  Tales  '  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Read  '  The  Gentle  Boy."' 

When  she  had  finished  she  put  the  book  aside  and 
looked  inquiringly  at  me.  I  said  nothing. 

"  It  is  a  pity  he  did  not  do  more  work  of  that  sort," 
she  said.  "  How  he  could  turn  quiet  gentleness  to  a 
tumult  of  strength. " 

She  sat  in  silence,  with  a  musing  gaze  fixed  upon  the 
sunbeams  that  fell  through  the  window.  I  wondered 
if  her  heart  did  not  smite  her,  knowing  that  she  was  a 
woman  of  misdeeds;  and  then  I  said  to  myself,  speak 
ing  to  myself:  "  Who  are  you,  that  you  may  censure 
others?  Has  your  life  been  free  from  blame?  Have 
you  not  given  encouragement  to  such  women?" 

"  What  sort?"  I  asked,  after  a  silence,  during  which 
I  had  been  contemplating  her. 

"Oh,  of  the  sort  that  brings  people  closer  to  life's 
obligations  —  to  true  gentleness.  And  yet,  this  story 
does  not  really  teach  us  to  be  moral.  It  tells  us  of 
religious  intolerance,  that's  all.  It  seems  that  every 
thing  tends  toward  the  betterment  of  man.  What  I 
want  is  a  careful  consideration  of  women.  But  what 
is  the  use  in  talking  to  you?  I  suppose  you  are 
with  the  rest  of  the  men.  You  think  that  an  evil- 
minded  man  can  be  reformed,  but  that  a  woman  who  has 
gone  astray  is  eternally  damned." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  think  so,"  I  answered.  "I 
should  think  that  repentance  is  held  out  regardless  of 
sex." 

"  Oh,    the     Bible   proclaims    that    idea,    but    man 


2O2  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

places  a  different  construction  upon  it.  I  do  not  agree 
with  man.  I  think  that  a  woman  ought  to  have  a  chance 
to  reclaim  herself." 

"  Man  gives  her  every  chance,"  I  replied.  "  He  not 
only  gives  her  a  chance,  but  encourages  her.  Women 
shut  the  door  in  her  face." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true.  But  what  is  the  use  of  discussing 
such  things?  The  hundreds  of  books  and  the  thou 
sands  of  lectures  devoted  to  this  subject  have  failed  to 
bring  about  a  desired  result." 

I  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairway.  Old  man  Stark 
stalked  into  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Stark,  you  ought  not  to  come  in  here,"  said 
Miss  Hatton,  frowning  in  disapproval  of  the  miller's 
presence. 

"  Wall,  I  didn't  know  what  else  terdo,"  he  answered, 
lifting  the  skirt  of  his  brown  jeans  coat  and  seating 
himself  on  the  edge  of  a  box.  He  sat  there  for  a 
moment,  and  then  got  up,  with  a  troubled  expression 
of  countenance.  "  Thar's  a  blamed  old  settin*  hen  in 
here,"  he  said,  rubbing  himself.  "  A  hen  that  ain't 
got  no  better  sense  than  ter  set  this  time  o'  year 
oughter  be  tuck  up  an'  shuck.  Oh,  you  neenter  laugh, 
Miss  Hatton,  fur  she  didn't  hurt  me  much.  Wall,  how's 
ever'thing?"  he  added,  seating  himself  on  the  foot  of 
my  bed. 

"  All  right,  so  far  as  I  know,"  the  teacher  answered. 

"  Don't  know  when  you'll  take  up  school  agin,  I 
reckon?" 

"  Not  exactly. " 

"  My  boys  air  might'ly  down  in   the  mouth.     They 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  2 03 

low  that  vidults  ain't  tasted  good  sence  you  quit 
teachin'.  They  think  a  power  uv  you,  miss." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  that  I  have  their  good  will." 

"  Wall,  you've  got  it  sho's  er  gun's  dangus.  You 
ought  never  ter  leave  this  here  neighborhood." 

"  Why?" 

"  Wall,  becaze  we  think  so  much  uv  you  up  here. 
Never  will  strike  sich  another  lot  uv  people  ez  long  ez 
you  live.  We  air  uv  the  true  feather,  us.  Don't  you 
feel  like  takin'  uv  a  walk." 

"No." 

"  Do  you  good." 

"I  have  to  give  Mr.  Collins  his  medicine  after 
awhile." 

"  Give  it  to  him  now.  Nothin'  but  a  sort  uv  tea  fixed 
up  by  the  home-folks,  nohow.  A  gallon  uv  it  won't 
do  him  no  good,  nur  no  harm  nuther,  I  reckon.  By 
the  way,  Mr.  Collins,  I  wuz  at  the  post-office  yistidy 
evenin'  an' tuck  out  this  letter  fur  you." 

He  handed  me  a  letter  bearing  the  Emryville  post 
mark. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    LONGED-FOR   LETTER. 

THE  letter  was  from  Henry  Osbury.  It  was  dated  at 
the  old  farm,  and  so  stirring  were  my  emotions  upon 
reading  the  date  line,  that  I  had  to  put  the  sheet  of 
paper  aside.  Miss  Hatton,  accommodating  even  in  her 
thoughtfulness,  conducted  Stark  into  another  room, 
and,  quieted  upon  being  left  alone,  I  read  as  follows: 

"  MY  DEAR  BOY:  I  brought  your  letter  out  home  yesterday  evening, 
and  to-day,  having  been  unanimously  elected  secretary  of  the  family,  I  enter 
upon  the  discharge  of  a  pleasant  duty.  Your  letter  must  have  been  an 
aimless  wanderer  before  reaching  us  —  must  have  been  half  drowned  with 
somereckless  boy  who 'rides  the  mail;'  and,  judging  from  the  condition  of 
its  overcoat,  I  do  not  think  that  it  escaped  a  railway  accident.  Indeed,  I 
am  tempted  to  believe  that  it  is  a  straggling  survivor  of  a  stage-coach 
robbery.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say  that  we  were  delighted  to  hear 
from  you,  for  you  must  know  that  you  have  endeared  yourself  to  us  all.  I 
have  never  known  my  father  to  be  so  impressed  with  any  one,  and  mother, 
I  am  constantly  reminded,  has  taken  you  into  the  beautiful  sanctuary  of  a 
noble  affection.  What  an  unselfish  life  she  has  lived;  how  devoted  she  has 
ever  been  to  the  giving  of  comfort  to  other  people.  Even  Uncle  Buck, 
who  thinks  that  the  world,  once  a  great  machine,  is  now  a  worthless  toy, 
holds  you  up  in  high  esteem ;  declares  that  you  are  the  only  young  man 
who  ever  understood  him,  and  that  your  opinion  is  worth  more  than  the 
judgment  of  a  latter-day  statesman.  Luzelle  has  your  letter  now,  reading 
it,  and  I  think  that  she  must  have  read  it  half  a  dozen  times.  She  finds 
delight  in  your  description  of  the  family  of  your  landlord. 

"  Now,  I  shall  proceed  to  give  you  a  piece  of  news:  Three  days  after 
tie  fight  in  Emryville(I  suppose  you  remember  the  occasion)  Jim  Britsides 
collected  his  scattered  forces  and  attacked  the  Savelys  at  a  place  known  as 
the  old  Sterling  camp-ground.  Both  parties  were  drunk,  and,  thus  blinded 
to  that  discretion  which  we  are  told  is  the  better  part  of  valor,  the 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


205 


encounter  was  simply  a  butchery.  Very  few  of  the  combatants  escaped. 
The  fight  was  resumed  in  Emryville  the  next  morning,  but  it  soon  came  to 
an  end,  for  Jim  Britsides  and  Boyd  Savely,  except  a  few  unimportant  ones, 
were  the  only  survivors.  By  this  time  officers  interfered,  but  too  late,  for 
Savely  shot  Britsides  through  the  heart  and  then  succeeded  in  escaping. 
So,  of  the  two  families,  Boyd  is  the  only  important  member  left.  It  was 
the  most  desperate  feud-war  known  (as  the  newspapers  say)  to  the  history 
of  this  county. 

"  Father  and  I  have  succeeded  in  convincing  the  authorities  that  you  are 
innocent  of  the  charge  of  stirring  up  the  strife;  that  you  acted  in  self-de 
fense;  and  we  are  all  assured  that  you  may,  without  molestation,  resume 
your  residence  in  Shellcut  County.  Our  people,  though  furious  when  in  a 
storm,  have,  when  in  a  calm,  the  gentleness  of  children;  and  the  very  men 
who  would  have  hanged  you  that  awful  night  would  now  speak  to  you  in 
playful  terms  of  the  narrowness  of  your  escape.  They  recognize,  as  Bacon 
did,  a  sort  of  wild  justice  in  revenge,  and  to  many  of  them  vengeance, 
instead  of  cleanliness,  should  stand  next  to  godliness,  for  have  they  not  been 
taught  that  the  Worshipful  Master  of  all  creation  is  Himself  the  God  of 
vengeance?  The  violent  man  is  also  a  forgiving  man;  the  easily-man 
aged  hypocrite  bears  malice. 

"  Father  wrote  an  article  for  our  county  paper,  and  afterward  delivered 
an  address  to  a  large  congregation  of  our  citizens.  He  spoke  of  the  gen 
tleness  of  your  nature,  your  love  of  the  woods  and  your  admiration  of  the 
beautiful.  This  received  a  quiet  sanction,  but  when  he  shrewdly  declared 
that  you  were  a  supreme  judge  of  a  fine  horse,  our  fellow-citizens  broke  out 
in  rapturous  applause.  That  did  the  work,  for  the  coroner's  jury  exoner 
ated  you. 

"  There  is  a  bitter  feeling  against  Boyd  Savely,  for  it  has  been  shown  that 
he  was  the  instigator  of  the  trouble;  and  the  relatives  of  a  man  who  was 
accidentally  shot  and  killed  declare  that  Boyd  shall  not  return  to  Shellcut. 
I  could  never  wholly  understand  why  father  thought  so  much  of  Boyd,  for 
neither  one  can  have  a  link  that  would  chain  the  other  to  him.  I  know  that 
father  and  the  elder  Savely  were  devoted  friends,  but  this  should  not  have 
so  strongly  influenced  father  toward  the  son;  but,  after  all,  I  don't  know 
but  this  trait  in  father  is  more  to  be  admired  than  to  be  condemned.  How* 
ever,  I  do  not  possess  it.  I  cannot  like  a  sour  apple  simply  because  it  grew 
upon  a  shapely  tree  that  has  afforded  me  a  pleasant  shade. 

"  Now,  my  dear  boy,  return  at  once.  Uncle  Buck  (whose  flute  has  been 
repaired)  will  welcome  you  with  tremulous  sounds,  and  Luzelle  will  touch 
the  keys  with  soft-feeling  fingers.  Uncle  Buck  discharged  Jack  Gap  yes 
terday,  and  upon  reporting  this  exercise  of  his  authority,  he  exclaimed 


2O6  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

'Remington,  I   won't  stay  here  and  work  like  a  nigger  and  be  abused. 
Gap  has  not  taken  his  departure.     I  enclose  a  letter  from  Fred. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  HENRY  OSBURY." 

The  letter"  from  Fred,  enclosed  in  a  small  pink  en 
velope,  was  addressed  to  me,  and  was  written  on  the 
day  of  the  fight  in  Emryville. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  BURWOOD:  I  have  something  to  tell  you  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  say  a  word — ;not  a  single  word  about  it.  Here,  in  San  Ber 
nardino,  there  is  the  prettiest  girl  I  ever  saw.  Her  name  is  Mollie  Fry, 
and  you  bet  in  looks  she  can  just  knock  Ella  Mayhew  silly.  I  am  in  love 
with  her,  but  I  haven't  told  her  yet.  I  thought  I  loved  before,  but  I  didn't. 
Why,  when  I  married  I  didn't  know  what  love  was.  Strange  that  a  feller 
will  be  so  mistaken.  This  girl's  hair  is  as  black  as  a  crow,  and  she's  got 
the  puttiest  little  hands  you  ever  did  see.  I  can't  eat,  I  love  her  so.  Don't 
you  say  a  wo'rd  about  it.  If  she'll  have  me  I'll  marry  her,  but  I'll  write 
home  first.  She's  the  smartest  creature  I  ever  saw,  and  sing  —  she  sings 
like  an  angel.  I  believe  she  loves  me,  but  I  ain't  sure,  but  she  smiles  at 
me.  That's  a  pretty  good  sign,  ain't  it?  I'll  write  again  after  awhile 
and  let  you  know  how  things  are  rocking  along. 

"Yours,        FRED  OSBURY." 

I  had  put  the  letters  into  the  large  envelope  and  had 
given  myself  to  a  state  of  musing — now  anxious,  now 
delighted,  and  now  thrilled  —  when  Miss  Hatton  entered 
the  room. 

"  Well,  I  have  got  rid  of  that  old  bore,"  she  said, 
seating  herself  near  the  window.  "  He  is  quite  enough 
to  turn  the  pleasant  broth  of  a  saint  into  the  disagree 
able  vinegar  of  a  cynic.  Did  your  letter  bring  good 
news?" 

"  Yes,  very  ;  and  I  shall  leave  this  place  as  soon  as 
I  am  able  to  ride." 

"  You  have  permission,  then,  to  return?"  A  peculiar 
smile  lighted  up  her  face.  "  If  you  have  permission  to 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


207 


return,"  she  added,  "  you  no  longer  have  need  of  an 
assumed  name.  Why  do  you  stare  so?  There  is  no 
need  of  surprise,  and  surely  no  necessity  for  excitement. 
I  recognized  you  the  moment  I  set  my  eyes  on  you. 
Why,  were  you  so  foolish  as  to  think  that  you  could 
peep  under  my  mask,  but  that  yours  was  so  well  held 
in  place  that  it  shut  out  all  possible  light  of  recognition? 
This  is  an  out-of-the-way  place,  but  a  Nashville  paper 
that  I  happened  to  receive  the  very  day  you  arrived 
gave  an  account  of  the  fight  in  Emryville.  The  out 
break  of  a  Kentucky  feud,  you  know,  is  pretty  well 
telegraphed,  and  Nashville  is  only  sixty  miles  away. 
But  don't  be  worried.  Your  kindness  (or  perhaps  dis 
cretion)  in  saying  nothing  to  these  people  about  me 
awoke  my  gratitude." 

I  knew  not  what  to  say;  knew  not  what  to  think, 
except  that  I  had  been  an  egotistic  fool.  I  had  been 
disposed  to  frown  upon  her  attentions,  to  look  with 
suspicion  upon  her  kindness,  believing  that  she  was 
trying  to  make  an  impression  upon  me.  After  a  few 
moments  of  silence,  during  which  she  sat  complacently 
smiling,  I  made  a  confession,  believing  that  some  sort 
of  return  ought  to  be  made. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  don't  blame  ycu. 
Whom  is  your  letter  from?" 

"  Henry  Osbury." 

"  I  was  not  acquainted  with  him.  He  was  not  at  his 
father's  house  to  welcome  me  when  Freddie  took  me 
home."  A  serious  expression  settled  upon  her  face, 
"  I  very  much  regret  that  affair, "  she  said.  "  Of  course, 
it  was  greatly  my  fault,  but  I  was  not  wholly  to  blame. 


208  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

The  boy  was  the  most  ardent,  the  most  impetuou* 
lover  I  had  ever  known;  and  where,  pray  tell  me,  is 
the  woman  who  can  help  admiring  a  completely 
swallowed-up  lover,  a  lover  wild,  almost  insane  with 
his  passion?  Many  women  are  better  than  other 
women,  but  they  are  all  women.  I  tried  to  put  him 
off,  but  could  not  —  or  rather  did  not,  after  I  learned 
of  the  prominence  of  his  family.  I  suggested,  after  we 
became  engaged,  that  it  would  be  better  to  tell  his 
people,  but  he  objected  violently  —  swore  that  they 
would  oppose  the  marriage,  but  that  they  would  quietly 
submit  after  the  ceremony  had  been  performed.  From 
what  I  learned  of  them  I  thought  that  it  would  be 
better  for  me  to  challenge  their  respect  by  a  show  of 
extreme  dignity;  but  I  made  a  mistake,  I  suppose. 
But,  even  had  I  been  welcomed  into  the  house,  I  don't 
believe  that  I  could  have  lived  there  very  long. 
When  we  had  finally  taken  up  quarters  at  a  hotel, 
I  knew  that  I  should  become  miserable,  and  in 
consequence  be  a  drag  upon  him,  so  I  went  away.  I 
was  somewhat  surprised,  when  I  went  home  with  Fred, 
to  find  old  Buck  Hineman.  The  boy  had,  in  his  few 
words  regarding  the  family,  spoken  of  his  Uncle  Buck, 
but  as  the  old  fellow's  surname  had  not  been  men 
tioned,  I  was  hardly  prepared  to  meet  him.  Am  1 
boring  you?  " 

"No;  far  from  it,"  I  answered.  "Tell  me  your 
history." 

"  My  history  is  very  short  — no  more  of  a  history  than 
the  life  of  many  a  woman  you  have  met.  I  was  born 
in  a  Pennsylvania  village,  and  extreme  poverty  was 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


2O9 


the  first  thing  I  knew.  My  father  was  a  drunkard,  and 
my  mother,  a  gentle  creature,  died  when  I  was  quite 
young.  One  night,  when  I  was  about  eight  years  old, 
my  father  was  brought  home,  dead.  •  After  this  I  went 
to  live  with  a  neighbor,  doing  drudgery  for  my  board. 
No  attempt  was  made  to  teach  me  anything;  no  care 
whatever  was  taken  of  me.  I  wore  cast-off  clothes,  and 
I  was  sometimes  ragged.  At  about  the  age  of  ten  I 
ran  away  and  went  to  Philadelphia.  I  wandered  about 
the  streets,  and  slept  in  a  deserted  house.  I  was  taken 
up  by  the  police,  having  been  pointed  out  as  a  beggar, 
and  was  sent  to  a  charity  school.  I  learned  with  re 
vengeful  eagerness.  But  what  is  the  use  of  dwelling 
on  such  details?  At  the  age  of  eighteen  I  began  to 
lecture,  in  a  small  way,  on  woman's  rights.  I  was 
earnest,  but  women  laughed  at  me.  Once,  in  a  village, 
after  lecturing  to  a  small  audience,  a  man  came  up  and 
said  that  he  wanted  to  shake  hands  with  me.  His 
face^  was  pleasant  and  his  voice  was  soft.  During  a 
conversation  which  followed,  he  told  me  that  he  shared 
my  views  —  that  women  had  ever  been  oppressed,  and 
that  the  aim  of  his  life  was  to  help  them.  He  advised 
me  to  take  up  a  school  in  the  neighborhood.  I  did  so. 
Three  months  later  we  were  married.  Three  months 
after  that  the  brute  struck  me.  I  ran  away  and  wen* 
to  New  York.  Shortly  afterward,  a  newspaper  para 
graph  brought  me  the  not  unpleasant  information  that  a 
team  of  horses  had  run  away  with  my  husband  and  had 
killed  him.  I  did  not  return  to  the  lecture-field  —  I 
know  you  must  be  bored." 

"  No,  indeed  I  am  not!"  I  exclaimed. 

14 


210  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  I  did  not  return  to  the  lecture-field,"  she  continued, 
"  but,  thinking  that  I  possessed  some  talent  for  writing, 
decided  to  try  my  hand  at  literature.  I  wrote  a  moral 
story  and  took  it  to  a  magazine.  I  was  treated  with 
that  peculiar  sort  of  politeness  which  is  far  more  de 
pressing  than  an  insult,  for  in  the  hot  resentment  of  an 
insult  we  find  a  kind  of  satisfaction.  Well,  I  tried  pub 
lication  after  publication,  triednewspapers — everything 
that  used  printer's  ink.  Failure.  Then  I  tried  to  get 
on  a  paper  as  a  reporter.  I  succeeded,  but  the  pay 
was  small.  Shortly  afterward  I  married  a  preacher. 
He  had  a  flock  in  the  country  and  had  officiated  at  a 
suburban  wedding  which  I  had  reported.  He  had  been 
flattered  by  women  until  he  thought  that  he  was  a  god, 
I  soon  discovered  that  he  was  a  fool.  He  thought 
that  my  whole  life  should  be  melted  and  poured  into 
his.  I  was  willing  to  humor  him  in  many  ways,  but  I 
would  not  become  his  slave.  This  aroused  his  holy 
anger.  Well,  we  fought.  I  was  much  to  blame,  I 
know,  but  was  willing  to  aknowledge  my  faults.  He 
had  none.  I  left  him,  and  he  secured  a  divorce.  I 
had  a  great  deal  of  experience  after  this,  and  changed 
my  name  from  time  to  time.  Once,  while  teaching  in 
Indiana,  I  met  Uncle  Buck.  The  old  fellow  gave  me 
to  understand  that  he  was  wealthy,  and,  being  some 
what  on  the  lookout  for  a  rich  man,  I  consented  to 
marry  him,  but  just  before  the  ceremony  was  to  take 
place  I  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of  stealing  a  horse. 
The  charge  was  not  true.  One  night,  about  two  weeks 
before  I  met  Uncle  Buck,  I  wanted  to  reach  a  railway 
station  in  tk&e  to  catch  a  train.  I  saw  a  horse  hitched 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  211 

to  a  fence,  and  as  he  didn't  appear  to  be  in  demand,  I 
mounted  him,  rode  four  miles  and  turned  him  loose. 
It  seems  that  he  wandered  off,  somewhere.  At  least 
he  was  not  found  until  after  I  had  been  arrested.  Of 
course,  nothing  was  done  with  me.  I  must  be  boring 
you,  for  I  am  tired  myself.  Did  you  tell  the  Osburys 
that  I  was  here?" 

"  No;  for  I  was  afraid  that  the  merest  reminder  of 
you  would  cause  Mrs.  Osbury  a  troubled  thought." 

"  You  are  considerate,"  she  replied,  slightly  bowing. 
"  Where  is  Fred  ?  "  she  asked  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  In  California.     I  have,  also,  a  letter  from  him." 

"  Let  me  see  it,  please." 

"No." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  considerate." 

"  Ah  !  Consideration  with  you  is  a  carefully  watered 
plant,  but  why  should  it  suggest  the  discretion  of  not 
showing  me  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Because  the  letter  contains  an  uncomplimentary 
mention  of  you. " 

"  Bah  !     What  do  I  care  for  that  ?     Let  me  see  it!  " 

I  held  out  the  letter;  she  took  it,  returned  to  her 
seat,  and,  after  reading  it,  wadded  it  up,  threw  it  upon 
the  bed,  and  sat  for  a  time  with  her  elbow  resting  on 
the  window-sill  and  her  chin  resting  on  her  hand. 

"  Pretty  little  hands  !  "  she  said,  almost  contemptu 
ously.  "  Hair  black  as  a  crow;  smart  !  I  warrant 
you  she  is  a  chattering  idiot.  " 

I  could  not  help  laughing,  so  absurd  did  her  indigna 
tion  appear. 


212  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Why  should  you  care  how  many  girls  win  his  love? 
He  is  nothing  to  you." 

Of  course  not! "  she  pettishly  replied;  "  but  I 
despise  to  see  a  man  so  fickle.  Talk  about  the  fickle 
ness  of  woman,  when  a  man  is  as  turnable  as  a  weather 
cock.  The  ablest  man  in  the  world  is  caught  by  a 
pretty  face.  Would  he  marry  an  ugly  woman?  No, 
he  wouldn't.  But  a  handsome  woman  worships  ability. 
To  her,  the  poet,  though  he  may  be  hump-shouldered, 
knock-kneed  and  ape-faced,  is  handsome." 

"  Did  you  marry  Fred  on  account  of  his  ability  ?" 

"  I  am  not  talking  about  myself  now.  I  am  talking 
of  men  and  women  in  general. " 

"You  remember  parts  of  your  former  lectures," 
I  remarked. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  laugh,  and,  clasping 
her  hands  back  of  her  gold-covered  head,  walked  up 
and  down  the  room.  When  she  sat  down  again  I  could 
see  no  traces  of  the  annoyance  which  she  had  shown. 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  remain  here?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  long,  for  I  am  getting  tired  of  an  honest 
quietude  that  censures  my  deception." 

"  You  are  a  bright  woman,  Miss  Hatton." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  you  should  pour  a  little  more 
water  on  your  tender  plant  of  consideration?  "  she 
asked,  smiling;  but  before  I  could  reply,  she  exclaimed: 
"  Oh,  I  have  a  book  you  must  read.  While  you  were 
raving  with  fever  I  read,  in  a  weekly  newspaper,  a  half- 
column  in  praise  of  a  new  novel  entitled,  '  On  the  Moss 
Side  of  the  Tree.'  Shortly  afterward  I  had  an  oppor 
tunity  of  sending  to  Nashville  for  it.  '* 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


2I3 


"Who  wrote  it?"  I  asked. 

"  A  writer  I  never  heard  of  before,  except  as  a  sort 
of  poet.  His  name  is  Elvis  Wiggles  worth." 

"  I  remember  his  poetry,  and  some  of  it  has  taken  a 
strong  hold  upon  me.  Where  is  the  book?  " 

"  Down-stairs,  but  you  are  hardly  well  enough  to 
read  it  now.  If  you  wish,  I  will  read  it  to  you. 
There  is  nothing  in  it  that  cannot  be  read  out,  for  it 
was  written  by  a  man.  Man  books,  you  know,  are  aK 
pure,"  she  continued,  smiling  archly.  "That  is,  so 
far  as  this  country  is  concerned. .  We  only  blush  when 
we  read  books  written  by  young  ladies  who  make 
shrewd  guesses.  I  must  go  down-stairs  now,  for  it  is 
about  time  the  folks  were  returning." 

At  morning,  when  the  winter's  sunlight  came  in  at 
my  window,  I  arose  and  extended  a  welcome;  and, 
at  evening,  when,  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  the 
sun-rays  wavered  and  bade  me  good-by  for  a  day,  I 
nodded  a  reluctant  farewell.  Day  after  day  I  saw  the 
sun  arise,  and  day  after  day  I  saw  it  go  down  behind 
the  sassafras-girted  ridge.  The  water  of  the  creek, 
now  overspread  with  the  dark  mantle  of  winter's  chill, 
gurgled,  I  fancied,  in  cheerless  rhapsody,  and  the 
snowbird,  upon  a  limb  that  wavered  a  threatened  dip 
into  the  stream,  uttered  a  cold  but  encouraging  song. 
The  field  lark,  whose  feathers  were  ruffled  by  the  barn- 
boy's  sudden  shout,  flew  away,  and,  alighting  upon  the 
fence-post,  proclaimed  a  new  and  frost-crested  morn 
ing.  The  old  yellowhammer  that  had  roosted  under 
the  wagon-shed,  chid  the  redbird  that  presumed  to 
come  into  the  barn;  and  the  frisky  "  sapsucker" 


214  A  KENTUCKY  COL  ONEL. 

alighted  on  the  top  of  a  dead  tree  and  declared,  in  a 
loud  and  ringing  song,  his  right  to  dictate  the  vocal 
cast  of  all  the  birds  that  flew  unto  his  rhythmic  and 
music-loving  territory.  The  frogs  that  sat  about  a 
pool  away  up  on  the  hill  cried  with  a  sort  of  re-re-re 
cadence  when  the  sun  warmed  their  backs,  and  the 
wild  duck  uttered  a  quack,  quack,  in  the  woods  where 
the  hunters  had  camped. 

My  days  of  recovery  were  very  slow.  Miss  Hatton 
had  read  to  me  the  life-like  novel  written  by  Elvis 
Wigglesworth,  and  I  had  expressed  my  admiration  of 
it,  yet  I  thought  that  it  lacked  a  certain  something,  and 
I  had  told  her  so;  but  still  she  seemed  to  think  that  it 
had  no  flaws. 

Old  man  Grider  and  his  wife  were  ever  ready  to  serve 
me,  and  even  the  boys,  although  they  had  a  lingering 
suspicion  that  I  was  a  rival,  were  ever  anxious  con 
cerning  my  condition. 

The  days  passed  with  tedious  slowness,  for  I  was 
longing  for  that  old  home  in  Kentucky.  I  felt  (as 
all  impatient  convalescents  must  feel)  that  I  grew 
weaker  instead  of  stronger,  yet  I  could  not  help 
knowing  that  the  days  which  brought  change  in  the 
weather  brought  strength  to  me.  The  teacher  took 
up  her  school  again,  at  which  I  was  pleased,  but  yet  I 
was  selfishly  sorry  that  she  did  not  devote  her  whole 
time  to  me.  She  would  come  into  my  room  at 
morning  and  at  evening,  and,  although  I  knew  that  she 
was  an  enemy  of  society,  yet  her  presence  always 
brought  agreeableness  and  her  care  always  produced 
comfort. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL,  2 1 5 

Day  after  day  my  strength  returned,  and  one  morn 
ing,  when  I  went  down  into  the  dining-room,  I  found 
the  family  assembled  to  welcome  me. 

"  When  are  you  going  away  ?  "  Miss  Hatton  asked. 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  go  within  three  days  from  now," 
I  answered,  adding  a  reminder  that  she  had  spoken  of 
her  early  departure. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  soon,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone, 
"  and  after  that  we  shall  never  see  each  other  again; 
but,"  she  quietly  added,  "  what  difference  does  that 
make  ?  " 

I  did  not  reply.  She  sat  gazing  up  at  the  hillside 
where  the  cows  were  ringing  their  mellow-toned  bells. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    OLD    KENTUCKY   HOME. 

ONE  morning  while  the  sun,  with  seemingly  a 
ful  beginning  of  his  day's  journey,  was  shooting  a 
shower  of  flashing  arrows  from  a  crag-crowned  hill-top, 
I  mounted  Fred's  horse  and  rode  away.  Strong  were 
my  emotions  as  I  turned  toward  Kentucky,  and,  as  I 
rode  along  over  a  hill,  down  a  slope  where  blue-flint 
spear-heads  made  by  ancient  Indians  were  seen  in  the 
gullies,  I  thought,  with  a  softening  pleasure,  of  the 
kindness  which  the  Griders  had  shown  me  and  of  the 
sisterly  attention  bestowed  by  the  school  teacher. 
Her  history,  told  at  a  tea-party,  would  give  many  an 
old  gossip  a  feeling  of  delightful  horrors,  yet  her 
sympathy  was  pure.  I  had  thanked  her,  but  the 
hollow  sound  of  my  words  had  impressed  me  with 
a  feeling  of  self-convicted  ingratitude;  and,  writing 
her  a  note,  wrapping  it  about  my  watch  and  placing 
both  in  a  little  box,  I  had  left  the  package  with  old 
man  Grider,  requesting  that  he  give  it  to  her  on  the 
morning  after  my  departure. 

I  followed,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  roads  which  I 
had  pursued  upon  coming  into  the  country,  and,  with 
out  incident,  reached,  on  the  second  day,  the  ferry 
where  the  peculiar  old  fellow  had  asked  me  to  pray 
with  him.  His  countenance  was  still  swathed  in  an 
expression  of  j>/>£tion,  but,  as  we  were  crossing,  a 


- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


217 


half-mischievous  light  of  recognition  which  shone  in 
his  eyes  revealed  an  inclination  toward  the  world, 
instead  of  a  hope  for  a  growth  in  grace. 

"  Wall,  parson,"  said  he,  "  have  you  got  through 
with  yo'  app'intments  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  muster  had  a  mighty  pullin'  an'  haulin'  eon- 
gergation  somewhar. " 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Becaze  you  look  like  you  mouter  been  dipped  in 
b'ilin'  water  a  couple  uv  times." 

"  I  am  not  wholly  unacquainted  with  hot  water,'1 

"  No,  reckon  not,  and  nuther  am  I.  Have  had  a 
mighty  tough  time  sence  you  was  along  here— -  have 
had  a  powerful  fight." 

"  Whom  did  you  fight?  " 

^  A  feller  knowed  mighty  well  in  this  here  neighbor 
hood  as  ole  Satan." 

"  Did  you  whip  him?  " 

"  Wall,  kain't  say  that  I  did.  Choked  him  putty 
well  one  time,  got  him  down  'twixt  two  logs  an'  thought 
I  had  him  foul,  but  he  riz  with  me  and  used  me  power 
ful  rough.  I  tried  agin  the  next  day,  but  he  jumped 
straddle  uv  me,  hooked  his  fingers  in  the  corners  of 
my  mouth,  socked  his  spurs  in  my  flanks  an'  rid  me  all 
over  the  curmunity." 

"  You  have  decided,  I  suppose,  not  to  fight  him 
again?  " 

"  Wall,  I  ain't  lookin'  for  him.  Ef  he  comes  my  way 
an'  tromps  on  me  I'll  hit  him,  but  I  ain't  goin'  out  on 


2  1 8  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

narry  nuther  still  hunt  atter  him.  Have  you  drawed 
many  folks  inter  the  church  sense  you  went  by  here?  " 

"  Not  many." 

"  Don't  reckon  they  are  ripe  enough  ter  be  shuck 
often  the  trees  down  whar  you  wasT* 

"Hardly." 

"  Tell  you  what  you  mout  do.  You  mout  pray  with 
me  a  little  jest  fur  luck." 

"  No,  I'm  still  in  a  hurry. " 

"  You  won't  git  another  chance  ter  pray  with  as 
lively  a  man  as  I  am." 

"  I  suppose  not." 

"  Ain't  you  got  sump'n  in  that  kyarpet-bag?  " 

"Yes,  clothing." 

"  I  mean  ain't  you  got  a  bottle  in  thar?  " 

"No." 

"  Look  an' see." 

"  I  know  I  haven't." 

"  Wall"  (with  a  disappointed  change  of  countenance), 
"  here  we  air.  I  oughter  charge  you  double  price." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Becaze  you  ain't  got  no  fun  in  you.  Bet  ef  a  man 
was  ter  hit  you  a  jolt  you'd  rattle  like  shucks.  Wall, 
good-by.  Hope  your  next  congergation  won't  pull 
an'  haul  you  so  much." 

After  passing  the  place  where  Major  Patterson  and 
I  had  separated,  I  lost  my  way,  as  I  could  not  follow 
the  almost  trackless  trail  over  which  he  had  conducted 
me.  Sometimes  I  found  a  path,  but  it  would  never 
lead  to  brighter  prospects  of  finding  a  direct  road. 
While  going  through  a  ravine  I  overtook  a  boy  riding 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  2  1 9 

a  blind  horse.  The  youngster,  astride  a  bag  of  corn, 
wa.3  going  to  mill.  I  was  much  pleased  even  with  so 
meager  a  promise  of  companionship,  but  I  soon  had 
cause  to  regret  our  acquaintance,  for  the  boy  was 
chewing  a  piece  of  India-rubber,  and  the  almost  con 
stant  screaking  thus  produced  made  me  so  nervous  that 
I  was  fearful  lest  I  might  be  afflicted  with  a  permanent 
case  of  the  jerks. 

"Why  do  you  chew  that  horrible  stuff?"  I 
asked. 

(Screak,  screak.)     "  Hah?" 

"  I  asked  why  do  you  want  to  chew  that  infernal 
stuff?" 

(Screak,  screak.)     "  Cause  it's  good,  I  reckon." 

"  It  will  kill  you." 

"  Wall"  (screak,  screak),  "  kain't  he'p  it." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  it  makes  a  very  disagreeable 
noise?' 

"  Wall "  (screak),  "  pap  'lows  so,  but  I  thought  he 
mout  be  jokin'.  You"  (screak,  screak,  screak)  "  don't 
like  to  hear  it,  do  you?  " 

"No;  I  don't." 

"Wall,  then"  (screak,  screak),  "as  you  air  on 
better  stock  than  I  am,  you  mout  ride  on." 

"  Do  you  know  of  a  load  that  leads  into  Shellcut 
County?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  b'lieve  I  do,"  he  replied,  with  so  vig 
orous  a  production  of  screaks  that  I  spurred  my  horse 
into  a  gallop  that  soon  brought  relief.  I  stopped  at  a 
small  log  house  and  inquired  of  a  woman  concerning 
the  direction  I  should  follow,  but  she  could  tell  me 


220  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

nothing,  except  to  keep  right  on.  Night  came,  and  I 
began  to  look  for  a  place  where  I  could  stay  until 
morning.  I  came  to  a  road,  and,  believing  that  it 
might  lead  to  accommodations  for  the  night,  I  followed 
it,  now  over  a  tract  of  timber  land,  and  now  down  a 
steep  descent.  *A  noise  attracted  my  attention.  I 
looked  about  me.  Half  familiar  features,  timber 
shapes  and  rocks  just  discernible  through  the  darkness, 
began  to  appear.  My  heart  leaped  with  a  breath- 
catching  thrill,  for  the  noise  which  I  heard  was  the 
Burgle  of  the  spout  spring  at  the  "  Devil's  Elbow." 
Now  the  road  was  plain,  and  the  horse,  recognizing 
iiis  nearness  to  home,  bounded  forward.  I  made  no 
effort  to  restrain  him,  for  swift-winged  eagerness  al 
ready  bore  my  fancy  into  the  old  library.  I  could 
see  the  Colonel  in  his  hearty  reception  of  me,  I 
could  hear  Mrs.  Osbury's  motherly  words,  and  I  could 
see  Luzelle,  -though  I  could  not  make  out  her  degree 
of  welcome.  Now  I  was  galloping  along  the  turnpike. 
Ah,  and  yonder  a  light,  and  here  the  big  gate! 

I  put  the  horse  into  the  stable  and  hastened  to  the 
house.  The  side-door  was  unlocked,  and,  with  swell 
ing  heart,  I  entered  and  tapped  on  the  library  door. 

"  Come  in!  "  the  Colonel's  voice  exclaimed. 

I  entered.  The  old  man  sprang  up  from  a  rocking- 
chair  and  threw  his  arms  about  me;  and  I  don't  know 
but  that  I  kissed  Mrs.  Osbury,  so  great  was  my  excite 
ment. 

"  My  gracious,  Phil,"  said  the  Colonel,  wiping  his 
eyes  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  "  you  must  have  had  a 
terrible  time  —  but  don't  pay  any  attention  to  what 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  221 

anybody  says  until  you  sit  right  down  here  and  rest 
yourself.  Don't  you  think  a  small  toddy  would  help 
you?"  he  added,  when  he  had  gently  pushed  me  into 
an  easy  chair. 

"No,  I  don't  need  it." 

"  I'll  make  you  one  in  a  minute." 

"  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  don't  insist  on 
his  taking  it  if  he  doesn't  want  it.  Whisky  is  not  a 
remedy  for  everything." 

"  Well,  Mary,  well  —  all  right,  we  won't  talk  about 
it.  Put  out  your  feet  there,  Phil;  I  know  they  are 
cold." 

"  I'll  go  and  have  something  to  eat  prepared  for 
you,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury. 

"  Is  it  not  too  late?"  I  asked. 

"  It  is  never  too  late  to  perform  a  pleasant  duty,"  she 
replied. 

Just  before  leaving  the  room  she  slyly  shook  her 
finger  at  the  Colonel,  and  I  knew  then  that  he  had  been 
drinking  too  much.  I  wanted  to  ask  about  Luzelle,  but, 
supposing  that  she  had  gone  to  bed,  and,  above  all, 
desirous  of  avoiding  a  possible  betrayal  of  myself,  I  re 
frained  from  mentioning  her  name. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  am  going  to  take  a 
small  drink  —  a  small  one,  now,  understand  —  and  then 
I  want  you  to  give  me  a  strict  account  of  yourself." 

He  poured  liquor  from  a  decanter  which  he  took 
from  a  corner  of  the  mantel-piece,  drank,  sat  down, 
and,  wiping  his  mouth,  said:  "  Yes,  suh,  I  want  the 
strictest  sort  of  an  account  of  yourself.  I  have  read 
over  our  manuscript  time  and  again  since  you  have 


222  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

been  gone,  always  wishing  that  you  were  here  to  help 
me  along  with  it.  Ah,  my  boy,  that  was  an  awful 
fight,  and  they  do  say,  old  fellow"  (reaching  over  and 
placing  his  hand  on  my  knee),  "  that  it  was  a  pity  your 
marksmanship  wasn't  as  good  as  your  grit.  But  it's  all 
over  now  and  settled  for  the  best,  I  hope.  Henry  and 
the  jailor  got  away  from  the  mob,  but  they  had  to  do 
some  tall  hustling.  Of  course  it  was  all  right  the  next 
day,  and  not  a  man  would  have  laid  hands  on  them. 
Now,  I'm  going  to  take  just  one  more  drink,  and  then 
I'm  not  going  to  say  another  word  until  you  have 
given  an  account  of  yourself.  You  needn't  wait  till 
Mary  comes  back,  for  I  can  tell  her.  Just  one  more 
drink,  understand." 

He  took  another  drink,  and,  sitting  down,  requested 
me  to  proceed  with  my  recital.  I  did  so,  giving  a 
faithful  account  of  my  trip  into  Tennessee  and  of  my 
severe  illness,  but  did  not  tell  him  that  my  faithful 
nurse  had  once  stood  on  his  porch  complacently  taking 
off  her  gloves  in  the  midst  of  a  gathering  storm. 

"  So  you  left  your  watch  for  her!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes. " 

"  You  did  right,  my  boy,  no  matter  what  her  past 
life  might  have  been." 

I  had  told  him  a  part  of  her  history. 

"  Yes,  suh,"  he  continued  after  a  moment  of  silence, 
"  and  hanged  if  we  don't  send  her  a  check  for  a  hun 
dred  dollars.  Now  I  am  going  to  take  just  one  more 
drink,  and " 

"  I  don't  think  you  should  take  any  more,  Colonel." 

"  Well,  then,  I   won't  do  it,  Phil ;  that's  all  there  is 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


223 


about  it.  What  you  say  goes.  Never  missed  a  man 
so  in  my  life  ;  never  in  my  life,  and  I'm  getting  along 
in  years,  Philip.  Oh,  I  h^ve  missed  people,  but  not 
that  much.  There's  such  a  thing,  you  know,  as  loving 
a  man.  Now,  suh,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  if  I  take 
this  drink  I  won't  take  another  one  to-night.  Just 
one,  now — just  a  small  one." 

He  drank  again,  and  instead  of  resuming  his  seat, 
stood  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back.  His  face  underwent  a  sudden  change. 

"  Luzelle "  he  faltered.  I  gazed  with  eagerness. 

"  Luzelle  went  away  with  a  dramatic  company  and " 

"  Now,  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  who  had 
entered  the  room,  "  be  more  careful  of  what  you  are 
saying.  Come  to  supper,  Mr.  Burwood,  and  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it.  The  Colonel  has  been  drinking 
for  a  day  or  two,"  she  added,  when  she  and  I  had 
passed  out  into  the  hall.  I  scarcely  heard  her.  My 
senses  were  just  enough  alive  to  know  that  my  heart 
was  sinking.  Gone  away  with  a  dramatic  company! 
Great  God! 

"  Sit  down  there  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  She 
has  not  gone  with  a  dramatic  company.  Last  week 
Brother  Buck  organized  a  sort  of  Thespian  club.  They 
played  at  Emryville  and  decided  to  go  over  to 
Clychester.  Luzelle  was  a  member,  and,  of  course, 
wanted  to  go.  They  were  to  start  one  evening  —  it  is 
only  twenty  miles  away  —  and  as  the  Colonel  was  not 
at  the  house  when  she  came  to  ask  permission,  and 
as  she  had  no  time  to  lose,  I  told  her  to  go.  The 
Colonel,  to  my  surprise,  was  much  annoyed,  although 


224  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

he  had  cheerfully  agreed  that  she  might  play  in  Emry- 
ville;  and  as  he  has  been  drinking  —  though  not  very 
much,  I  am  sure  —  he  will  have  it  that  the  Thespian 
club,  having  gone  away  from  home,  has  necessarily 
become  a  regular  dramatic  company.  For  my  part  I 
was  truly  glad  that  Luzelle  could  find  something  to 
take  an  interest  in,  for  you  don't  know  what  that  poor 
girl  has  undergone  lately.  " 

What  relief  did  her  words  bring  to  me,  and  yet 
the  removing  of  the  heavy  weight  had  left  a  bruise,  for 
I  knew  what  she  had  undergone;  I  knew  Savely  had 
taken  her  heart  with  him. 

"  As  the  Colonel  continues  to  be  so  much  annoyed," 
Mrs.  Osbury  continued,  "  I  want  you  to  drive  over  to 
Clychester  to-morrow  morning  and  tell  her  that  she 
must  come  home." 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,"  I  answered. 

"  Do  have  something  more,"  she  said  when  I  shoved 
back  my  chair. 

"  No,  I  thank  you." 

"  You  haven't  eaten  anything.  The  water  is  still 
hot  —  let  me  boil  you  another  egg.  No?  Well,  then, 
let  us  go  back  into  the  library." 

We  found  the  Colonel  stretched  out  on  the  sofa, 
snoring.  His  pipe  lay  on  the  floor  beside  him. 

"  Remington!  Remington!" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  sitting  up.  "  I  was  just  think 
ing,"  said  he,  "  that  we  ought  to  get  down  to  our  work 
again  as  soon  as  possible.  Yes,  lying  here  thinking 
how  to  shape  up  a  thing  that  had  just  come  into  my 
head.  Man  ^ets  to  thinking  sometimes,  you  know, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


225 


and  can't  quit.  Phil,  old  boy,  they  can't  call  you  a 
coward,  anyway;  can  they?" 

"  I  hope  not,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  I  know  they  can't." 

"  Remington,  Mr.  Burv/ood  is  going  after  Luzelle 
to-morrow." 

"  No,  just  let  her  stay  where  she  is.  If  she  thinks 
more  of  the  stage  than  she  does  of  me,  all  right. 
Never  thought  a  child  of  mine  would  come  to  such  an 
end.  And  now  let  me  tell  you,  Mary,  if  Buck  ever 
puts  his  foot  on  this  place  again  111  hurt  him  —  hurt 
him,  sure,  now;  mind  what  I  tell  you,  that  if  he  ever 
puts  his  foot  on  this  place  again  I'll  hurt  him,  and  hurt 
him  bad.  After  all  our  association,  he  persuades  my 
daughter  to  become  an  actress  —  why,  I'll  hurt  him." 

"  Come,  Remington,  it's  time  you  were  going  to 
bed." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  late.  Phil  and  I  have  got  to  talk  over 
old  times." 

"  Not  to-night,  for  it's  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Did  Haney  bring  that  saddle  back?" 

"  Yes;  don't  you  know  you  brought  it  in  from  the 
vard  gate  and  hung  it  up?" 

"  That's  so.  I  tell  you  what,  I'm  studying  so  hard 
lately  that  it's  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  remember  any 
thing.  " 

"  Come  now,  it's  bed-time." 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  getting  up  and  putting  his  arm 
around  her.  "  Whatever  you  say,  Mary,  is  true.  If 
the  recording  angel  was  to  dispute  something  that  you 

16 


226  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

said  is  true,  I'd  say,  '  Look  here,  you'd  better  look  over 
your  books  again." 

"  It  is  wicked  to  talk  that  way,  dear." 

"  Well,  I  would.  I'd  just  demand  an  investigation 
right  off." 

Shortly  after  I  had  gone  to  bed,  some  one  tapped 
on  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Burwood."     It  was  Mrs.  Osbury's  voic*. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Is  there  enough  cover  on  your  bed  ?  " 

"Yes,  plenty." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  sure." 

"  Well,  if  it  should  turn  colder  before  day  you  will 
find  plenty  of  cover  in  the  closet.  Good  night." 

"  Good  night,"  I  repeated,  and  added  (though  t 
don't  believe  she  heard  me),  "  God  bless  you!" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   GREAT   DRAMATIC    EVENT. 

WE  had  breakfast  early  the  next  morning.  The 
Colonel  did  not  join  us,  but  just  as  I  was  about  to  drive 
away  from  the  yard  gate,  he  came  out,  and,  bidding 
me  wait  a  moment,  stood  with  his  arms  resting  on  the 
fence.  The  expression  on  his  face  had  gathered  into  a 
flushed  seriousness. 

"  Philip,  I  hope  you  may  have  a  pleasant  ride." 

"  I  think  I  shall,  sir,  as  the  day  is  bright." 

"  Let  me  see  you  a  moment." 

I  got  out  of  the  buggy,  and  he  conducted  me  along 
the  fence  (although  no  one  was  within  hearing),  he  on 
one  side  and  I  on  the  other. 

"  Phil,"  he  said,  stopping,  "  I  want  you  to  tell  the 
truth  now.  Didn't  I  behave  shamefully  last  night  ?  " 

"  How  so  ?  "  I  asked,  feigning  surprise.  A  light 
began  to  shine  in  his  eyes  —  the  light  of  hope. 

II  Why  —  er — to  tell  the  truth,  wasn't  I  as  drunk  as 
a  fool  ?  " 

"  You  took  several  drinks  after  I  came,  but  I  did  not 
regard  that  as  anything  unusual." 

"But  didn't  I  make  you  feel  ashamed  of  me  — 
ashamed  for  the  sake  of  my  wife?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  not.  " 

The  light  of  hope  burned  brighter.  He  reached 
over  the  fence,  seized  my  hand  and  warmly  shook  it, 


228  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

It  is  honest,  unquestionably,  to  tell  a  sensitive  man, 
the  next  day  after  a  night  of  intoxication,  that  he  made 
himself  ridiculous,  but  it  is  hardly  honorable  —  at  least 
it  is  an  unnecessary  piece  of  cruelty;  for  his  repent 
ance  is  deep  and  his  humiliation  is  great.  Self-despis 
ing,  he  dares  not  hope  for  encouragement,  and,  a  nerv 
ous  coward,  he  is  afraid  of  sympathy.  When  he  has 
recovered  you  may  lecture  him.  The  gentlest  touch 
hurts  the  bone-felon,  but  without  pain  you  can  press 
the  well  finger. 

Just  before  reaching  Clychester,  a  team  attached  to 
a  wood  wagon  ran  into  the  buggy  and  smashed  one  of 
the  wheels.  At  a  shop  near  by  I  was  told  that  the 
damage  could  not  be  repaired  before  the  following  day, 
so  I  walked  into  the  town.  I  regretted  the  accident, 
yet  it  was  not  wholly  deplorable,  as  it  would  give  me 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  a  performance  given  by  Uncle 
Buck's  company;  and  that  I  should  not  be  likely  to 
meet  Uncle  Buck  or  any  one  whom  I  might  chance  to 
know,  I  avoided  public  places  until  night.  The  per 
formance,  the  second  or  third  one  of  the  series,  was  to 
take  place  in  the  town  hall.  A  play  bill  about  the 
size  of  a  funeral  ticket  announced  that  "  Hineman's 
Blue-Grass  Dramatic  Combination"  had  met  with  "phe 
nomenal  success  "  and  that  a  failure  to  see  "  one  of  their 
splendid  renditions  would  ever  be  remembered  with 
regret."  At  the  proper  time,  the  village  cornet  band, 
gathering  about  a  horse  block  in  front  of  the  hall, 
played  "  Dixie,"  "  Old  Kentucky  Home  "  and  a  stir 
ring  medley,  arranged  by  the  leading  professor  of  the 
11  Female  College,"  People  began  to  climb  the  narrow 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  $ 29 

stairway  leading  to  the  hall;  the  mayor  and  board  of 
aldermen  marched  down  in  a  body  and  went  up  free, 
and  the  town  marshal  with  his  hickory  club,  cut  from 
the  summit  of  a  neighboring  "  knob,"  went  up  the  same 
way. 

At  the  top  ot  the  staircase,  in  a  sort  of  improvised 
box  office,  I  saw  old  Buck.  A  snapping  turtle, 
sunning  himself  on  a  log  in  the  spring  of  the  year, 
could  never  have  been  more  in  his  glory  than  old  Buck 
was  at  that  moment.  I  pulled  down  my  hat  and 
stepped  aside  into  a  narrow  passage-way  to  watch  the 
old  man's  maneuvers. 

"Fifty  cents  for  front  seats,  twenty-five  for  seats 
back  of  the  chalk  line.  Oh,  yes,  fillin'  up  right  along. 
What  do  you  want,  boy?  Step  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  carried  bills  around,"  the  boy  replied. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  can't  help  that.  I've  passed  in  fifty 
boys  already  on  that  score.  Hold  on.  Some  of  them 
may  be  frauds  and  you  may  be  honest.  Go  on  in. 
Ah,  lady,  front  seat?  Here's  a  fine  one,  first-class 
view  of  the  stage.  Say,  Steve"  (addressing  a  negro), 
"  did  that  fiddler  say  he  would  come  back?" 

"  No,  sah,  he  say  you  wouldn't  pay  him  enough." 

"  Why,  the  trifling  rascal,  how  much  does  he  want? 
Does  he  want  the  box  office  receipts?  Go  back  and 
tell  him  that  I'll  make  it  fifty-five  cents  and  not  a  cent 
more.  Front  seat,  suh?" 

I  had  stepped  up  to  the  window.  In  a  disguised  voice 
I  told  him  yes.  The  rush  was  not  great,  and  I  had  no 
trouble  in  getting  a  seat  near  the  stage.  I  could 
scarcely  persuade  myself  into  the  belief  that  Luzellft 


230 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


was  soon  to  appear  before  me.  I  took  up  a  programme, 
and  there  was  her  name.  She  was  to  be  a  flower  girl. 
The  play  (an  announcement  made  in  black  type)  was  a 
"  dramatization  of  that  wonderfully  thrilling  and  popular 
novel,  'The  Baron's  Daughter;  or,  The  Whispering 
Duke/  written  and  adapted  to  the  stage  by  America's 
coming  favorite  writer  of  fiction,  Miss  Annie  Bumpus, 
who,  a  great  actress  as  well  as  a  great  writer,  assumes 
the  thrilling  role  of  the  Baron's  Daughter." 

The  fiddler  must  have  accepted  old  Buck's  terms, 
for  he  soon  came  in  and,  establishing  himself  as  the 
orchestra,  played  "  Money  Musk."  And  then  the 
curtain  went  up.  Miss  Bumpus  sat  on  a  box  over 
spread  with  a  piece  of  green  calico  (representing  a 
mossy  stone)  and  was  dreamily  gazing  toward  the 
west. 

"  Will  he  never  come?"  she  asked.   "  Ah,  he  comes." 

A  young  fellow  with  a  red  feather  in  his  hat  ap 
proached  her,  and  holding  out  his  hands,  murmured, 
"  Agnes,  so  soon  here?" 

She  seized  his  hands  and  pulled  him  down  beside 
her.  The  box,  one  corner  of  which  had  been  dam- 
aged,  tilted,  and  the  young  fellow  fell  off,  but,  soon 
recovering  himself,  he  said;  "  This  ancient  stone, 
covered  with  the  moss  of  ages,  is  no  firmer,  Agnes, 
than  I." 

"  Rupert,  you  thrill  me." 

"  Then  why  do  you  not  consent  to  be  my  bride  and 
fly,  fly  away  with  me?  ' 

"  Ah,  woe  is  me!  Do  you  not  know  that  the 
Whispering  Duke  has  sworn  to  make  me  his  own?" 


A  KENTUCKY  COL  ONEL.  2  3 1 

"  But  fly  with  me!  See,  my  charger  is  yonder, 
champing  his  bit  and  shaking  his  rich  caparisons  in 
welcome. " 

"  Would  I  were  with  thee  always,  Rupert." 

"  Ah,  you  send  through  my  veins  a  tingling  of  heaven. 
Come,  Agnes,  fly  with  me." 

"  Rupert,  lord  of  my  young  heart's  fresh  and  dewy 
kingdom,  it  is  for  your  sake  that  I  do  not  go." 

"  Why  for  my  sake,  queen  of  my  soul?  " 

"  Because  I  love  thee  and  would  not  see  ill  betide 
thee.  The  Whispering  Duke  has  sworn  upon  the 
hilt  of  his  mighty  sword  that  he  will  be  avenged  upon 
the  man  who  attempts  to  thwart  his  deep-laid  de 
signs.  Hush!  merciful  heavens,  here  he  comes!  Fly, 
Rupert. " 

"I  will  not  fly." 

"  If  you  love  me,  fly." 

"  Then  I  will  fly,  but  no  other  consideration  under 
that  bright  and  glorious  sun  above  us  would  cause  me 
to  fly." 

He  "  flew,"  and,  a  moment  later,  there  appeared 
another  young  fellow.  He  wore  great  spurs,  a  frowsy 
wig  and  immense  whiskers.  He  strutted  up  to  the 
"  Baron's  daughter,"  and  striking  his  hip  with  a  buck 
skin  glove,  exclaimed: 

"  Whose  voice,  ringing  throughout  the  glen,  smote 
upon  my  ear?" 

"  My  voice,"  she  answered. 

"  Your  voice?     Talking  to  whom  were  you?" 

"To  my  dog." 

"  Gone  whither  is  the  animal?     I  see  him  not." 


232 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  He  has  scampered  down  into  the  glen,  where  he 
saw  a  wild-eyed  hare  at  play." 

"  Beware,  Agnes  St.  Brevaro,  beware!" 

"Oh,  leave  me." 

"  I  will  not  leave  thee  until  thou  art  pledged  to  be 
mine." 

"  I  do  not  love  you." 

Croak,  croak,  croak.  The  Whispering  Duke  was 
laughing.  "  Do  not  love  me!  What  care  I  for  that? 
Proud  and  defiant  maiden,  I  have  sworn  to  wed  thee. 
To-morrow  I  will  see  thee  again.  For  the  present, 
farewell. " 

The  next  scene  was  intended  to  be  a  village  street, 
and  I  was  smiling  at  its  incongruities,  when  Luzelle, 
carrying  a  basket  of  flowers,  came  out.  I  no  longer 
saw  the  not-intended  humor  of  the  play;  no  longer 
heard  the  stilted  sentences.  I  saw  Luzelle,  I  heard  her 
voice  —  nothing  more.  I  sat  leaning  forward,  to  avoid 
recognition  —  sat  entranced,  now  happy,  now  miser 
able.  One  moment  I  was  sworn  to  declare  my  love; 
the  next  moment  I  could  see  that  her  heart  had  gone 
away  with  Boyd  Savely. 

I  learned  from  the  fiddler,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
performance,  that  there  was  no  way  out  except  by  the 
narrow  stairs  in  front,  so  I  stood  near  the  stage  waiting 
for  Luzelle  to  comedown.  The  young  men  soon  came, 
as  the  only  alterations  necessary  to  render  them  pre 
sentable  in  the  street  consisted  of  the  removal  of  whis 
kers,  wigs  and  a  few  marks  of  paint.  After  a  while  — 
a  long  and  nervous  while  it  was  to  me  —  Luzelle,  Miss 
Bumpus  and  several  other  youn^  ladies  came  down 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


233 


into  the  "  auditorium."  I  stepped  forward.  Luzelle 
saw  me,  dropped  a  rose  which  she  was  carrying  in  her 
hand,  took  up  the  flower,  and,  advancing  to  meet  me, 
said: 

Mr.  Burwood,  you  have  come  here  to  make  fun  of 
us,  I  suppose." 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  have  come  at  your  mother's 
request.  She  wants  you  to  return  home.  The  buggy 
was  broken  just  before  I  reached  here,  or  I  should 
have  called  for  you  this  morning." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  she  said,  picking  the  rose  to 
pieces.  "  Miss  Annie,  here  is  Mr.  Burwood." 

Miss  Bumpus  came  forward  with  a  sort  of  willowy 
waver,  which  she  undoubtedly  thought  must  be  ex 
ceedingly  graceful,  and  bowed  to  me  with  a  sweep- 
back  motion.  Then  she  held  out  her  hand,  bending 
her  wrist  in  imitation  of  a  swan's  neck. 

"  You  witnessed  the  rendition,  I  hope,"  she  said. 
"  But  let  me  introduce  these  young  ladies,  future  stars, 
I  am  sure.  "  I  was  introduced,  and  had  forgotten  their 
names  within  two  minutes  afterward. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  rendition?"  she  asked. 

"Very  much,"  I  replied,  and,  glancing  at  Luzelle, 
saw  that  the  merest  suggestion  of  a  sneer  had  crept 
between  her  lips.  Miss  Bumpus,  however,  stood  in 
surprise,  not  having  been  prepared  for  the  faint  per 
fume  of  compliment,  but  expecting  the  strong  odor  of 
praise. 

"  Why,  helloa,  here!  "  exclaimed  old  Buck,  rushing 
upon  me  and  seizing  my  hand.  "  Never  did  expect  to 
see  you  alive  again.  By  George,  I  am  glad  to  see 


234  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

you.  Didn't  pay  your  way  in,  did  you?  Why  didn't 
you  make  yourself  known?  Hard  matter  for  a  man 
in  a  box-office  to  recognize  anybody,  you  know.  Did 
you  come  over  to  join  our  troupe?  " 

"He  came  to  take  me  home,"  Luzelle  answered. 

The  old  fellow  gasped.  "  Why,  Burwood,  that  will 
break  up  the  troupe.  Don't  do  anything  so  rash  as 
that,  my  dear  boy. " 

"  But  Mrs.  Osbury  has  sent  for  her." 

Oh,  Mary  ought  to  know  better  than  that.  Here 
I  am,  now,  after  years  and  years  of  useless  work,  just 
beginning  to  make  money  hand  over  fist,  to  be  hurled 
to  the  ground.  Burwood,  this  is  the  only  thoroughly 
moral  play  that  ever  went  out  under  the  management 
of  a  veteran.  Why,  suh,  there  ain't  a  hug,  not  even  a 
kiss,  in  it.  People  everywhere  are  delighted.  We 
don't  have  to  pay  any  hotel  bills  —  stop  at  private 
houses,  as  some  of  us  have  relatives  in  every  town  we 
strike.  Go  back  and  explain  the  situation  to  Mary. 
Tell  her  that  Luzelle's  place  cannot  be  filled.  " 

"  I  am  going  with  him,  Uncle  Buck." 

"  Now,  look  here,  Luzelle,  that  ain't  n©  way  to  talk. 
You  are  ©ft  the  high  road  to  success  —  to  make  some 
thing  of  yourself,  and  I  don't  think  anybody's  got  a 
right  to  ask  you  to  drop  back." 

"  Mr.  Burwood,"  said  Luzelle,  turning  away,  "  you 
may  call  for  me  at  Captain  Porter's  to-morrow  morn 
ing.  Good  night.  Come  on,  Miss  Annie." 

"  The  ©Id  man  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me 
down  to  the  sidewalk,  earnestly  imploring  me  not  to 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


235 


break  up  his  company.  Just  before  we  parted  at  a 
street  corner,  he  said: 

"  Now,  you  air  going  to  regret  this." 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Hineman,  that  the  girl's  mother  is 
the  mover  in  the  affair." 

"  Oh,  well,  but  you  can  go  back  and  fix  it  all  right 
with  her." 

"  Yes,  I'll  fix  it  all  right  by  taking  the  young  lady 
home. " 

"  Confound  the  infernal  luck,  it  was  always  this  way. 
Never  saw  the  like  in  my  life.  Everybody  is  trying  to 
keep  me  from  doin'  anything.  But  I  am  not  goin'  to 
give  up.  I  am  goin'  to  take  the  company  on  an'  lead 
them  to  success.  Good-by.  I  never  expect  to  see  you 
agin." 

When  I  called  at  Captain  Porter's,  early  the  next 
morning,  I  found  Luzelle  waiting  for  me.  When  she 
came  out  to  the  gate,  I  saw  how  pale  she  was,  and  how 
many  traces  of  suffering  there  were  upon  her  face.  "  I 
know  the  cause,"  I  mused,  "  and  I  will  not  add  to  your 
grief  by  a  mention  of  that  cause  —  I  will  not  distress 
you  by  declaring  my  love  of  you.  I  will  wait,  and 
perhaps  I  may  win  you  into  a  forgetfulness  of  a  man 
who  is  not  worthy  to  look  upon  your  face." 

As  we  were  driving  along,  I  told  Luzelle  of  my  ex 
perience  in  Tennessee.  In  fact,  she  asked  me  to  tell 
her  more  of  the  peculiar  family  which  I  had  spoken  of 
in  my  letter.  I  told  her  of  Miss  Hatton,  told  her,  as 
nearly  as  I  could,  what  sort  of  life  the  teacher  had  led, 
but  did  not,  of  course,  mention  the  fact  that  she  had 
once  been  Fred's  wife. 


236  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"She  has  a  sympathetic  heart  at  least,"  she  said,  when 
I  had  finished,  "  and  I  don't  know  but  that  in  the  final 
judgment  her  soul  may  be  brighter  than  the  soul  of 
many  a  woman  who  has  lived  a  refined  but  cold  and 
uncharitable  life.  Many  a  weed  bears  a  beautiful  flower, 
while  many  a  flower  has  but  the  rank  scent  of  the  weed. 
Oh,  I  have  been  so  tired,  so  worn,  since  that  dreadful 
affair  in  EmryvilLe.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  lived  an  age 
since  then." 

"  We  both  have  need  to  forget  it,"  I  answered. 

"  Yes,  but  to  forget  in  the  face  of  a  constant  re 
minder —  but  let  us  not  talk  about  it.  Have  you  been 
reading  much  lately?" 

"  Not  very  much;  'The  Moss  Side  of  the  Tree' " 

"  Oh!  have  you  read  that?  I  sent  to  Louisville  for 
it,  having  read  so  much  about  it  in  the  newspapers. 
You  know  I  told  you  once  that  I  like  American  novels 
best,  and  Wigglesworth  is  surely  a  true  American. 
Some  of  his  touches  of  nature  are  simply  beautiful — not 
so  grand  as  the  descriptions  of  scenery  found  in  Euro 
pean  novels,  but  gentle,  sweet,  and  dewy.  Other 
descriptions  may  be  blazing  sunflowers,  but  his  are 
gentle  violets,  found  unexpectedly." 

Never  before  had  she  talked  so  much  to  me;  never 
with  such  unreserve  had  she  shown  me  the  sentimental 
beauties  of  her  nature.  No  other  twenty  miles  were 
ever  so  short  to  me,  and  as  much  as  I  had  learned  to 
love  the  old  brick  house,  a  feeling  of  disappointment 
came  into  my  heart  when  its  chimneys  arose  into 
view. 

They  had  waited  dinner   for   us,  and  the   Colonel, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


237 


now  his  old  self,  talked  with  mirthful  encouragement 
of  our  work. 

"  Why,  Luzelle,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  your  theatrical 
tour  has  helped  you." 

"Traveling,"  she  answered,  smiling  at  me,  "has 
ever  been  recommended  for  lowness  of  spirits." 

"  Well,  we  don't  want  any  lowness  of  spirits  around 
here, "said  the  Colonel.  "Everything  ought  to  be 
bright  where  literary  work  is  going  on." 

After  dinner  we  sat  in  the  parlor.  It  was  a  happy 
day,  a  bright  and  joyous  day,  a  day  of  hope.  Look 
ing  out,  I  could  not  see  a  cloud. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   OLD    MAN    WAS    HUNGRY. 

THE  next  morning,  upon  coming  down-stairs,  1 
found  Luzelle  sweeping  the  gallery.  The  dogs,  trot 
ting  up  and  down,  in  frosty-morning  friskiness,  were 
always  in  the  way,  and  made  pretenses  of  extreme 
fear  when  Luzelle  threatened  them  with  the  broom. 
The  picture  was  so  bright  that  I  stood  for  some  time 
unobserved,  not  wishing  to  blur  it;  but  I  did  blur  it 
when,  shortly  afterward,  I  spoke  to  her.  She  replied 
in  a  cool  way,  and,  placing  the  broom  in  a  corner,  she 
stood  with  her  hands  resting  on  the  railing  of  the 
"  banisters,"  gazing  far  away  over  the  frosted  fields. 

11  You  are  not  well  this  morning,  are  you?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  quite  well,  I  thank  you." 

"  You  seem  to  have  changed  since  yesterday." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  changed,"  she  answered, 
glancing  at  me  with  a  coolness  that  made  me  shiver. 

"  Come  in  to  breakfast,"  said  the  Colonel,  stepping 
out  on  the  gallery.  "  Get  down,  you  trifling  rascal. " 
(One  of  the  dogs  was  trying  to  put  his  paws  on  the  old 
gentleman's  shirt  bosom).  "  Bright  day,  Phil.  Good 
day  to  take  up  our  work  again." 

Luzelle  did  not  even  glance  at  me  during  the  meal. 
"  What  can  have  brought  about  this  change?"!  mused. 
M  I  see.  The  freshness  of  meeting  me  again  having 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


239 


worn  off,  she  has  turned  toward  Boyd  Savely.  I  will 
not  increase  the  weight  of  her  burden.  I  will  wait, 
and  perhaps  there  may  come  another  day  of  encour 
agement."  With  dogged  strength  I  held  to  this 
determination.  She  gave  me  not  the  slightest  cause 
to  break  it.  In  the  hall,  in  the  parlor,  and  in  the 
library,  which,  by  chance,  it  seemed,  she  sometimes 
entered,  she  wore  the  same  coolness  of  expression  — 
her  eyes  had  the  same  distant  look.  I  tried  to  recall 
the  easy  conversation  in  which  we,  riding  over  a  too- 
rapidly-shortening  road,  had  indulged  our  playfulness 
of  fancy,  but  I  could  reproduce  only  the  scene:  the 
words  refused  a  second  utterance. 

The  Colonel  was  delighted  when  we  resumed  our 
work.  To  me  the  pen  moved  with  ungraceful  stiff 
ness;  but,  with  a  kindly-meant  dissimulation,  I  made  a 
pretense  of  keen  concern. 

"  By  the  way,  "said  the  Colonel,  "  you  haven't  told  me 
what  arrangements  you  made  in  Louisville  for  bringing 
out  the  history." 

"  I  didn't  succeed  in  making  any  arrangements." 

"  Did  the  trouble  come  on  before  you  had  a  chance 
to  see  the  publishers?  It  has  been  on  my  mind  pretty 
much  all  the  time  since  you  came  back  to  ask  you, 
but  I  supposed  all  along  that  the  arrangements  were 
about  completed.  Did  you  call  on  any  of  them?" 

I  related  my  experience.  The  old  man  got  up  from 
the  sofa,  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  front  of  the  fire, 
thinking  deeply,  and  then  said: 

"  Philip,  they  are  wolves.  That's  what  they  are  — 
nothing  but  howling  and  snarling  wolves.  The  life  of 


240  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL, 

every  man  who  has  ever  written  a  book  is  a  proof  of 
the  fact  that  those  fellows  are  wolves.  Well "  (after  a 
few  moments),  "  we  can't  allow  them  to  scare  us. 
We'll  go  to  Cincinnati,  to  Chicago,  to  New  York  and 
Boston,  suh,  before  we  will  submit  to  their  rascality. 
What  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  I  rejoined,  "  that  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  for  yo11  to  bring  the  book  out  your 
self." 

"  How?     What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Why,  have  the  type  set,  plates  made,  and  pay  some 
printer  to  do  the  press-work  Then,  instead  of  receiv 
ing  a  mere  pittance  as  royalty,  whatever  is  made  on  the 
book  belongs  to  you." 

"  Phil!  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  reaching  my  chair 
almost  at  a  bound  and  slapping  me  on  the  shoulder, 
"  you  have  simply  hit  the  nail  square  on  the  head. 
We  will  bring  that  thing  out,  to  the  everlasting  shame 
of  those  rascals.  Sell?  why,  it's  bound  to  sell.  People 
want  American  literature.  They  don't  want  to  read 
about  old  castles  and  Lord  So-and-So  all  the  time. 
They  want  to  see  the  —  the  —  the  —  they  want  to  see 
the  soil  of  our  own  earth  clinging  to  the  shoes  of — of 
—  of —  "  (the  metaphor  was  too  much  for  him)  — "  in 
fact,  they  want  home  stuff — home  stuff.  And  we'll 
give  it  to  them.  I'm  going  to  take  a  toddy  now.  Oh, 
it's  the  first  to-day,"  he  added,  as  I  looked  up  at  him. 
"  Bless  your  life,  my  boy,  I  wouldn't  take  too  much 
for  anything.  I  don't  drink  very  much.  No  matter 
how  often  I  am  in  town,  I  never  go  into  a  saloon. 
You  have  seen  me  under  the  influence  of  liquor  twice, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


241 


Yoti'll  never  see  it  again.  Ah,  it's  a  curse,  but  if  we 
know  how  to  handle  the  stuff  it's  all  right.  My  father 
lived  to  be  eighty,  and  took  his  liquor  all  along.  But 
it's  bad,  and  I  thank  God  that  my  boys  don't  touch 
it." 

He  took  a  drink,  sat  down,  and,  after  a  time,  said: 
"  Our  relations  are  with  printers  now,  and  literary 
merit  doesn't  enter  into  the  transaction." 

One  of  the  neighbors,  who  came  from  Emryville  the 
next  evening  after  the  Colonel  and  I  had  returned  to 
our  work,  brought  me  a  letter  from  Fred. 

"  I  don't  care  whether  the  world  keeps  on  or  not," 
were  the  letter's  opening  words.  "  I'm  tired.  What 
do  you  think  ?  I  asked  that  girl  to  have  me,  and  she 
said  she  was  engaged  to  a  fellow  that  raises  fruit. 
That  settles  it  with  me.  If  there  ever  was  a  heart 
broken  man  in  this  world  I'm  him.  I  don't  see  why  I 
should  have  such  infernal  luck.  I  am  n.  g.,  I  reckon. 
I  never  saw  as  pretty  girl  in  my  life,  and  to  think  that 
she  is  going  to  marry  a  man  that  raises  fruit  !  I'll  bet 
he's  a  clod-hopper,  too.  Sometimes  I  think  women 
ain't  got  any  sense.  I  could  give  that  girl  a  good 
home,  but,  no,  she  must  marry  a  man  that  has  to  raise 
fruit.  I  read  a  long  account  of  your  fight.  I  am 
sorry  you  and  Boyd  fell  out.  He's  a  good  fellow  if 
you  hit  him  right.  He  learned  me  how  to  swim  a 
long  time  ago.  But  it's  all  over  now,  for  I  am  cast 
down.  I  wish  I  had  you  here.  Don't  say  anything 
about  it.  Glad  to  know  that  you  are  game.  I  don't 
know  how  long  I'll  stay  here.  There  is  nothing  left 

IB 


242  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

but  darkness  on  the  face  of  the  earth  for  me.  I  was 
reading  a  book  about  a  young  fellow  in  the  army  that 
had  a  funny  Irishman  named  Mickey  with  him,  and 
liked  it,  but  it's  all  over  now. 

"Yours,         FRED." 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and,  while  eating  rather  a 
late  breakfast,  we  heard  the  dogs  whining  and  yelping 
on  the  gallery;  and,  a  moment  later,  we  were  greeted 
by  Henry  Osbury.  He  had,  upon  coming  back  from 
a  visit  to  Louisville,  heard  of  my  return,  and,  without 
stopping  to  see  how  his  business  affairs  were  getting 
on  (he  slyly  winked  at  me  upon  making  this  announce 
ment),  hastened  to  his  father's  house.  We  talked  of 
that  awful  night  at  the  jail,  and  I,  for  the  third  time 
since  my  return,  related  my  experience  among  the 
rugged  hills  of  Tennessee.  Luzelle,  who  had  professed 
such  amusement  in  the  vagaries  of  the  Grider  family, 
did  not  even  smile  when,  at  some  length  and  with 
not  a  little  attempted  ingenuity,  I  dwelt  upon  their 
oddities;  and,  in  proof  that  she  was  not  even  interested 
in  my  recital,  she  frowned  slightly  when  I  mentioned 
the  close  attention  which  Miss  Hatton  had  paid  me 
during  my  illness. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  the  Colonel  asked,  turning 
to  a  negro  who  had  appeared  at  the  dining-room  door. 

"  Mr.  Buck  is  out  ter  de  gate,  sah. " 

"  Well,  you  go  back  and  tell  him  that  if  he  don't 
want  to  gat  hurt  he'd  better  stay  away  from  here." 

"  Now,  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  don't  talk 
that  way." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  243 

"  Well,  now,  he  shan't  come  into  this  house,  I'll  tell 
you  that  right  now." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  Henry  asked. 

"  Why,  you  know  of  his  hurrahing  dramatic  com 
pany  business.  Trying  to  haul  Luzelle  around  as  an 
actress  !  Tell  him  if  he  comes  in  this  house  I'll  hurt 
him  !  " 

"  Yas,  sah,"  the  negro  replied,  "  but  he  say  he  hon- 
gry,  sah." 

"  Hungry  !  "  the  Colonel  exclaimed. 

"  Dat's  whut  he  say." 

"  Well,  go  and  tell  him  to  come  in  here  and  get 
something  to  eat." 

Without  the  shaking  of  a  hand  or  a  "  how  are  you  ?  " 
without  showing  in  his  countenance  an  expression  to 
indicate  that  he  had  been  absent  even  for  half  an  hour, 
old  Buck  approached  the  table. 

"  Remington,"  he  said  as  he  seated  himself,  "  who  do 
you  reckon  I  saw  over  at  Clinton,  yesterday  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"OldBobSevier." 

"  Not  our  old  Bob  !  "  the  Colonel  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  suh,  our  old  Bob." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  slowly  draw* 
ing  out  his  words  in  that  ruminating  and  half  wandering 
way  which  often  comes  to  men  advanced  in  life,  when 
reminded  of  some  one  who  was  once  well  known,  but 
who  has  been  forgotten.  "  Well,  well,  old  Bob  Sevier! 
The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  in  fifty-nine,  I  think.  He 
was  just  starting  for  Mississippi  with  a  lot  of  negroes, 
How  does  he  look  ?  " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Fust-rate,"  old  Buck  answered,  taking  a  cup  of 
coffee  which  Mrs.  Osbury  handed  him.  "  Gray,  but 
don't  look  so  mighty  old." 

"  What's  he  doing  ?  " 

"  Not  much  of  anything.  Running  a  sort  of  livery 
stable." 

"  Let's  see,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  What  was  the  name 
of  that  fellow  that  married  old  Bob's  daughter;  that 
black-eyed  one  ?  " 

"  Don't  recollect.      Wasn't  it  Hankins?" 

"  No,  his  name  began,  I  think,  with  a  C.  What 
in  the  name  of  common  sense  was  his  name?  Wasn't 
it  Cooper?" 

"  No,"  Buck  replied.  "  You  are  thinking  of  that  fel 
low  that  married  a  Miss  Pemberton." 

"  Confound  that  fellow's  name;  it  was  on  the  end  of 
my  tongue  this  very  minute." 

"  I  come  in  one  of  speakin'  it  just  then,"  said  Buck. 
"  It  begins  with  an  L,  I  think.  Why,  I  remember 
when  he  was  married  a  heap  better  than  I  do  things 
that  took  place  the  other  day.  Humph.  I  thought 
I  had  it  then." 

"  Are  any  of  you  going  to  church  to-day?"  Mrs. 
Osbury  asked.  Brother  Fuller  preaches  his  farewell 
sermon." 

"  Has  the  Lord  called  him  off?'5  the  Colonel  in 
quired." 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Osbury  rejoined;  "  he  is  going  over  to 
Haywood. " 

"  Increase  of  pay,  I  reckon." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so. " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  245 

0  Are  his  services  more  needed  over  there  than  they 
are  here?" 

"  I  suppose  not." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  he  is  going 
simply  because  he  gets  more  money.  The  Lord  hasn't 
got  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  But,  Remington,  would  you  muzzle  the  ox " 

"  That's  all  right,  Mary.  I  wouldn't  muzzle  him  and 
I  wouldn't  go  to  hear  him  preach,  either.  That  state 
ment  about  the  ox  is  a  very  fortunate  thing,  and  I  war 
rant  you  it  is  quoted  in  every  house  in  Kentucky  when 
ever  anything  is  said  about  the  pay  of  preachers.  I 
don't  object  to  their  receiving  pay,  but  I  do  object  to 
their  attempt  to  make  me  believe  that  the  Lord  tells 
them  to  go,  not  where  they  can  do  the  most  good,  but 
where  they  can  make  the  most  money.  What  in  the 
deuce  was  that  fool's  name?" 

The  Colonel  shoved  back  his  chair  and  sat,  slowly 
nodding  his  head  in  a  worrying  effort  to  recall  the 
name  of  the  man  who  had  married  old  Bob  Sevier's 
daughter. 

Mrs.  Osbury  and  Luzelle  went  to  church;  the  Colonel, 
still  in  perplexed  thought,  betook  himself  to  the  li 
brary;  old  Buck  went  out  to  the  corn-crib  to  take  a 
consoling  turn  at  his  long-neglected  flute,  and  Henry  and 
I,  crossing  the  stubble-field,  strolled  into  the  woods. 
The  sun  was  bright,  and  the  frosty  "  nip  "  that  was 
in  the  air,  driven  from  the  fields,  took  ambush  in  the 
deep  shade  of  the  trees.  The  rabbit,  sitting  crouched 
down  in  a  bed  scratched  out  under  the  end  of  an  old 
hg,  melted,  with  his  gentle  breath,  the  frost  on  the 


246 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


dead  leaves  that  lay  under  his  nose;  and  the  squirrel, 
with  his  nervous  tail,  sunned  himself  high  up  in  the 
forks  of  an  oak. 

Henry  and  I  talked  on  many  subjects  —  talked  as 
though  we  had  been  boys  together  and  had  met  after 
a  long  separation. 

"  I  was  very  much  amused  in  Louisville,  the  other 
day, "  said  my  friend.  "  An  old  gentleman  —  a  divine, 
they  term  him  —  who  had  preached  in  the  country 
during  many  years,  was  given  a  charge  in  the  city. 
Believing  that  he  had  carried  his  holy  warfare  into  one 
of  Satan's  most  strongly  intrenched  dwelling-camps,  he 
proceeded  to  visit  the  dens  of  iniquity  with  a  view  of 
preaching  a  sermon  to  men.  I  went,  and  although  his 
effort  was  honest,  it  was  assuredly  absurd.  It  does 
seem  to  me  that  such  attempts  of  preachers  are  ridicu 
lously  ill-timed.  The  idea  of  giving  the  experience  of 
two  hours  to  men  who  have  had  a  similar — or  worse 
—  experience  of  many  years !  And  besides,  a  man  who 
has  been  the  rounds  has  learned  more  in  two  hours 
than  a  preacher  can  tell  him  in  two  years.  Ah,  my 
dear  boy,  it  is  very  easy  for  us,  in  a  certain  sense,  to 
be  as  wise  as  serpents,  but  who  among  us  is  as  harm 
less  as  a  dove?  Thackeray  lamented,  you  know,  that 
since  the  burial  of  the  author  of  'Tom  Jones'  it  was  left 
to  no  other  writer  to  depict  the  passions  of  a  man. 
Thackeray  had  not  read  the  American  newspaper  very 
closely;  he  had  not  read  the  proceedings  of  a  divorce 
court.  The  truth  is,  that  we  are  all  men,  very  mnch 
after  the  manner  of  Tom  Jones,  and  the  united  effort 
of  the  entire  clergy  cannot  make  manikins  of  us. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


247 


It  has  been  said  that  where  there  is  no  passion 
there  is  no  virtue,  and  the  best  we  can  do, 
having  inherited  our  desires,  is  to  be  agreeably  hypo 
critical  in  society,  upright  in  private,  and  honest 
always.  The  so-called  strong-minded  women  cry  out 
against  our  presumptuousness  in  demanding  purity  in 
the  opposite  sex  while  our  lives  have  not  been  pure, 
and,  technically,  they  are  right,  but  old  mother  Nature 
has  granted  certain  prerogatives  to  man.  Well,  now," 
he  broke  off,  "  I  don't  know  what  should  have  called 
out  this  unholy  discourse.  So  you  left  your  watch 
for  the  school-teacher." 

"  Yes;  had  to  soothe  my  conscience  in  some  way." 

"  Rather  a  peculiar  —  I  don't  know,  though.  There 
are  many  such  women  in  the  world.  Did  she  fall  in 
love  with  you?" 

"Oh,  no." 

"  I  didn't  know  but  she  might  have  been  trying  to 
marry  you." 

"  No;  we  knew  each  other." 

"  Knew  each  other!  "  he  repeated.  "  Had  you  met 
before?" 

"Yes." 

"  During  some  round  in  a  city,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  at  your  father's  house." 

"  What  do  you  mean!  "  he  exclaimed,  stopping,  and, 
in  surprise  and  confusion,  turning  upon  me. 

"  I  mean  that  Fred  once  brought  her  home  as  his 
wife." 

"  Well,  I'll  swear!    And  you  recognized  each  ©ther?" 


248 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  Yes,  but  did  not,  for  some  time,  speak  of  our  former 
meeting. " 

"  Then  what  she  did  for  you  was  done  purely  through 
kindness  of  heart.  Have  you  told  the  folks  at  the 
house?" 

"  No,  and  I  don't  intend  to  yet  awhile." 

"  I  don't  think  you  should.  Helloa,  yonder' s  Jack 
Gap." 

Mr.  Gap,  whom  we  soon  overtook,  was  walking 
along  the  path,  kicking  at  chunks  and  lumps  of  earth. 
He  professed  exceeding  gladness  upon  seeing  me,  and 
declared  that  he  would  have  come  up  to  the  house  to 
call  on  me  but  that  he  had  been  so  busy. 

"  Never  did  'low  to  see  you  alive  no  mo'  atter  you 
went  in  that  jail,"  said  he.  "  I  done  all  I  could,  but 
thar  war  too  many  fur  me.  I  fout  an'  fout,  an'  got 
knocked  down  two  or  three  times,  but  it  wa'n't  no 
use." 

"  How  is  your  wife?  "  I  asked,  with  a  desire  to 
change  the  subject,  for,  however  much  we  may  respect 
our  own  necessity  to  tell  a  lie,  we  do  not  recognize  the 
necessity  in  other  people. 

"  Wall,  she  ain't  so  mighty  peart  sence  the  baby 
died.  Grieves  mightily,  sometimes.  Folks  up  to  the 
house  war  powerful  kind  to  us.  Gin  us  ever'thing  we 
wanted,  an'  the  Colonel  paid  me  fur  a  month's  work 
that  I  didn't  do.  I'm  lookin'  fur  a  bee  tree  out  here  in 
the  woods.  Yander's  Isom." 

The  negro  climbed  over  a  low  fence  that  ran  through 
the  woods,  approached  us,  and,  after  greeting  Henry 
and  me,  turned  to  Gap  and  said: 


. 
A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  249 

"  W'y  kain't  you  1'arn  ter  let  things  erlone  dat  doan 
'long  ter  you,  hah? 

"  I  don't  know  whut  you're  talkin'  about." 

"  Yes,  you  does.  You  know  you  tuck  dem  patidges 
outen  dat  trap  o'  mine.  You  know  dat  well  ez  I  does, 
an'  I  wanter  tell  you  right  now  ef  you  keep  foolin'  wid 
me  I'll  walk  yo'laug,  sho.  I  wa'n't  put  yere  ter  be  run 
ober  by  no  po'  white  man,  I'll  tell  you  dat  right  now; 
an'  ef  you's  got  ernuff  sense  ter  pay  ertention  ter  de 
word  wid  de  bark  on  it  you'll  let  my  things  erlone. 
Yere  me?  " 

"  Go  on,  now;  I  don't  want  no  words  with  you." 

"  Doan  sass  me  " — shaking  his  fist  in  Gap's  face  — 
"  doan  sass  me  ur  I'll  parlize  you  right  yere.  Deze 
yere  genermen  ain'  gwine  he'p  you,  caze  da  knows 
you.  Neenter  think  caze  da's  yere  you  ken  stick  out 
yo'  mouf  at  me." 

"  Look  a-here,  now,  I  won't  let  no  blamed  niggei 
rub  his  fist  under  my  nose." 

"  You  mer  call  me  er  nigger  an'  all  dat,  but  you 
mustn't  steal  no  mo'  patidges  out  my  trap.  I'll  let  you 
off  dis  time,  but  cut  ernuder  sicher  caper  an'  you's  my 
meat,  sho.  Genermen"  —  addressing  Henry  and  me 
—  "I  wishes  you  mighty  well,  an'  I  bids  you  good 
mawnin'.  I'd  cotch  dem  patidges  fur  you,  Mr.  Henry. 
I  wuz  gwine  fetch  'em  right  up  dar  ter  town  an'  gin'  em 
ter  you  an'  not  charge  you  er  cent,  nuther.  Oh,  I 
wa'n't  gwine  take  money  eben  ef  you  had  tried  ter 
shove  it  on  me.  I  knows  er  good  man  when  I  sees 
him,  I  does.  I  knows  whar  ter  git  er  quarter  w'en  I 


250 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


ain't  got  nuthin'.  But  ef  I'd  ax  you  fur  er  quarter 
right  now  you'd " 

"  Here,"  said  Henry,  handing  him  twenty-five  cents, 
"  stop  the  harangue." 

"  Erho"  (taking  the  money),  "  whut  sklamation  wuz 
dat?  Errang,  did  you  say?  I  wants  dat  word,  sah. 
I'se  gwine  use  it  in  de  pra'r  meetin'.  Make  er  nigger 
fling  up  de  whites  o'  his  eyes." 

"  Isom,  you  are  a  genial  rascal." 

"  Lissun,  dar  it  is  ergin.  Da  keeper  comin'  my  way. 
Man  fool  roun'  you  he'd  dun  hab  er  sermon  laid  right 
out.  But  I  ain't  no  raskil,  Mr.  Henry.  All  I  want  is 
ter  make  a  livin',  dat's  all,  sah,  an'  I  could  do  it,  too, 
ef  it  wa'n't  fur  de  po' white  trash.  Guber'ment  oughter 
send  'em  all  outen  de  country,  er  haw,  haw.  Send 
Gap  dar  de  fust  one,  er  haw,  haw.  Come  tryin'  ter 
put  hisse'f  on  ur  'quality  wid  folks.  Doan  mine  dat  so 
much  ez  I  do  his  stealin'  my  patidges." 

Henry  and  I  strolled  back  toward  the  house,  leaving 
Gap  and  the  negro  standing  in  the  path  threatening 
each  other. 

"  They  are  both  rascals,"  Henry  remarked.  "  The 
negro  is  the  better  man  physically,  and  Gap  knows  it. 
By  the  way,  can't  you  go  to  town  with  me  this  even 
ing?  " 

"  No;  the  Colonel  and  I  are  very  busy,  and  must 
begin  work  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"  This  thing  of  writing  a  book  must  involve  consid 
erable  work." 

"  It  does.  There  is  nothing  more  tiresome  than 
handling  a  pen  after  it  has  become  heavy." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  251 

"  I  suppose  not.  I  hope  to  see  you  in  town,  how 
ever,  as  soon  as  you  can  come.  Old  Major  Patterson 
talks  about  you  every  time  he  meets  me.  He  thinks  a 
great  deal  of  you,  and  sometimes  expresses  a  joking 
lament  that  you  were  not  with  him  years  ago  when,  as 
he  expresses  it,  folks  thought  they  could  run  over  old 
Tobias." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HAD    HATED    HERSELF. 

THE  weeks  passed,  and  I  saw  no  change  in  Luzelle. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  that  we  were  farther  apart  than  we 
had  been  during  the  early  days  of  our  acquaintance. 
The  buggy-ride  from  Clychester  was  a  sweetly-regret 
ful  memory. 

The  "  History  of  Shellcut  County"  was  completed, 
and  the  Colonel,  having  visited  Louisville  (leaving  me 
to  write  the  preface),  had  made  arrangements  for  the 
printing  of  the  book.  The  old  gentleman  was 
delighted  with  the  preface.  "  Why,  suh,"  said  he, 
"  that  alone  ought  to  sell  the  work.  There  is  no  use 
talking,  we've  got  up  a  piece  of  literature  that  will 
take.  If  it  is  a  literary  success  I  don't  care  whether 
it  sells  or  not.  I  only  speak  of  its  selling  because  peo 
ple  gauge  the  excellence  of  a  book  in  that  way.  We'll 
send  copies  to  the  principal  newspapers,  and  after  we 
get  a  number  of  notices,  we'll  sit  down  some  evening 
and  read  them.  You  keep  them,  for  I  don't  want  to 
see  one  of  them  until  you  collect  a  whole  batch.  Then 
we'll  have  a  love-feast. " 

I  saw  so  much  in  the  newspapers  and  magazines 
complimentary  of  Wigglesworth's  novel  that  I  read  the 
book  again,  and  this  time  saw  many  beauties  that  I 
had  at  first  failed  to  notice;  and  what  I  had  at  first 

253 


- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


253 


taken  to  be  a  weakness  in  character  portrayal  I  now 
discovered  to  be  a  sly  and  delicate  drawing.  I  read 
the  book  to  the  Colonel. 

"  Oh,  it's  so-so,"  said  the  old  man;  "  not  very  good 
and  not  very  bad.  Good  description,  good  conversa 
tion,  but  it  hasn't  got  the  jolt  in  it.  Confound  the 
infernal  luck."  He  arose  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I'm  trying  to  think  of  that  infernal  name." 

"What  name?" 

"  The  name  of  the  fool  that  married  old  Bob  Sevier's 
daughter.  I  do  know  that  a  thing  of  that  sort  wor 
ries  me  worse  than  any  man  in  the  world.  If  it 
amounted  to  anything  I  probably  wouldn't  pay  any 
attention  to  it.  Last  night,  when  Hammonds  and  Jinny 
were  here,  spitting  and  talking  about  Norfolk,  as  if 
that's  the  only  place  where  a  man  can  get  anything  to 
eat,  I  couldn't  do  a  thing  but  try  to  think  of  that  — 
Jarvis!  Jarvis!"  he  exclaimed.  "That's  it — Jarvis, 
Jarvis,  Roseberry  Jarvis;  and  a  grander  rascal  never 
lived.  Jarvis,  Jarvis,  Roseberry  Jarvis.  Oh,  Buck!" 
he  called,  stepping  to  the  door.  A  moment  later  the 
"  veteran  manager  "  entered.  "  That  fellow's  name  was 
Jarvis." 

"  That's  a  fact,  Remington  —  Roseberry  Jarvis." 

"  Yes,  suh,  Roseberry  Jarvis." 

"  I  didn't  think  to  ask  old  Bob  what  had  become  of 
him." 

"  Oh,"  the  Colonel  responded,  "  I  don't  care  a  snap 
what  has  become  of  him.  I  just  didn't  want  to  be 


254 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


bothered  out  of  my  life  trying  to  think  of  his  name. 
So  Bob  looks  all  right,  does  he?" 

"  Yes,  but  he's  as  gray  as  a  wharf  rat." 

"  He's  got  many  a  sin  to  answer  for.  Used  to  treat 
negroes  shamefully.  You  remember  old  Caroline? 
How  she  did  beg  me  to  buy  her,  and  I  did  it  mainly 
because  Bob  treated  her  mean.  I  don't  suppose  there 
ever  was  a  negro  trader  that  had  any  soul.  They  never 
were  respected,  you  know,  even  by  large  slave-owners. 
Roseberry  Jarvis,"  he  thoughtfully  added,  and  then 
resumed  his  seat. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  Colonel  was  out  somewhere 
and  while  I  was  lying  on  the  sofa  in  the  library,  Luzelle 
came  into  the  room. 

"  Where  is  pa?"  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  He  stepped  out  just  a  few  moments 
Ago.  Shall  I  go  out  and  call  him?" 

"  No,  I  thank  you.  I  can  see  him  after  awhile.  I 
had  thought  of  visiting  some  friends  over  in  Woolfred 
County  and  merely  wanted  to  get  his  consent." 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  be  gone?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Until  spring,  doubtless.  I 
am  tired  —  tired  of  everything." 

She  stood  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  mantel-piece. 
Her  face  was  pale,  and  the  bright  light  in  her  eyes 
seemed  to  cast  dark  shadows  immediately  under  them. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  going  away  even  for  so  short  a 
time,"  I  said. 

"  Why?" 

"  Because  I  shall  miss  you,  and  because " 

"  Because  what?" 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  255 

"  Well,  the  truth  is,  I  shall  be  gone  before  you 
return.  As  my  work  here  is  about  completed  there  is 
no  reason  why  I  should  remain  any  longer." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  she  answered,  carelessly, 
looking  toward  the  door. 

"  A  great  deal  of  experience  has  been  compacted 
into  my  Shellcut  career,"  I  said,  with  a  masterful 
effort  to  force  upon  myself  the  semblance  of  uncon 
cern. 

"  Yes,"  she  rejoined,  "  and  you  must  ever  look  back 
upon  it  as  the  nightmare  in  your  dream  of  life." 

"  Not  a  nightmare,  but  parts  of  the  dream  have  been 
feverish." 

"  Some  of  your  trouble,  appearing  to  have  been  a 
sort  of  fate,  could  not  have  been  avoided,  but,  upon 
the  whole,  I  believe  that  we  could  have  made  your 
stay  more  pleasant  for  you.  Where  do  you  expect  to 
go?"  she  asked,  not  giving  me  time  to  reply  to  her 
statement  of  implied  regret  that  my  stay  in  Shellcut 
had  not  been  more  pleasant. 

"  I  don't  know  —  will  again  incline  to  drift  aimlessly, 
I  suppose." 

"  I  didn't  know  but  that  you  might  go  back  to  Ten 
nessee." 

"  Why  should  I  want  to  go  there?"  I  asked,  raising 
up  on  my  elbow  and  gazing  steadily  at  her. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know  but  you  wanted  to  see  Miss — - 
Miss  Hatton  again." 

"  You  ought  to  know  better  than  that." 

"  Why,'*  she  asked,  in  exasperating  surprise. 


2  5  6  4  KENTUCKY  COL  ONE  ' . 

"  Because  you  ought  to  know  that  I  don't  care  any 
thing  for  her." 

"  Care  anything  for  her?"  she  said,  looking  up  at  the 
ceiling.  "  You  love  her." 

"  Luzelle!"  I  cried,  in  anguish,  starting  up,  "  how 
can  I  love  her  when  I  worship  you!" 

She  uttered  a  cry  —  the  cry  of  an  excited  bird,  and, 
with  one  bound,  she  reached  the  sofa,  threw  her  arms 
about  my  neck,  sank  upon  her  knees  and  sobbed. 
Now  her  tears  were  on  my  face;  now  her  ringlets 
blinded  my  eyes. 

It  was  some  time  before  either  of  us  spoke.  She 
would  not  let  me  arise,  and,  with  my  arms  wound 
about  her,  I  pressed  her  to  my  bosom. 

"  Oh,  you  have  been  blind,"  she  said  in  a  choking 
voice,  "  so  blind." 

"  I  thought  that  you  disliked  me,  angel." 

"  I  have  hated  myself  for  loving  you  so  much,  and 
here  I  am  now,  kneeling  and  feasting  on  your  love, 
drunk  at  the  banquet  table  of  idolatry.  Who  is  so 
humble  as  a  proud  woman  that  loves!  I  could  not  be 
lieve  that  you  loved  me.  Sometimes  I  could  hardly 
keep  from  seizing  you  in  my  arms,  but  then  that  cold 
look  would  come  into  your  eyes.  On  that  awful  night, 
that  night  when  you  rode  away  in  the  storm,  I  went 
heart-broken  to  bed,  and  in  the  morning  my  pillow 
was  wet  from  the  rain  of  the  storm  that  had  raged  in 
my  soul.  That  night  Boyd  Savely  begged  me  to 
marry  him.  I  turned  upon  him  with  a  madness  that 
could  have  killed  him.  With  the  hand  that  for  a 
moment  had  rested  in  pleading  on  your  arm  I  could 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

have  choked  him.  Tell  me,  Philip,  tell  me  that  you 
do  not  care  for  that  woman." 

"  Luzelle," — pressing  her  closer  and  closer  to  me, — 
"  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you  my  heart  has  been 
timed  by  the  expression  on  your  face.  I  could  see  no 
love  there  for  me,  and  my  heart,  ever  since,  with  the 
exception  of  the  day  when  we  rode  from  Clychester, 
has  been  bruised  and  bleeding.  The  next  day,  had  I 
seen  you  smile,  I  should  have  told  you  of " 

"  Oh,  but  you  would  not  let  me  smile.  You  came 
and  looked  at  me  with  unemotional  eyes.  Then  I 
thought  you  loved  that  woman.  I  hate  her  —  I 
could  kill  her!  Oh,  you  must  never  have  loved  any 
one,  Philip.  If  you  have,  I  will  curse  the  past  —  I  will 
hate  every  woman  that  has  ever  lived.  My  pride  is 
broken,  and  I  am  simply  a  woman  terrible  in  her 
love." 

"  I  have  never  loved  any  one  but  you,  Luzelle. 
Romantic,  perhaps  foolishly  so,  I  have  looked  up 
ward,  believing  until  I  met  you  that  an  all-consuming 
love  existed  only  in  novels." 

"  And  I,"  she  said,  passionately  kissing  me,  "  was 
ever  afraid  to  indulge  my  thoughts  of  what  love  could 
be  —  was  afraid  to  set  up  an  ideal  lest  he  might  be 
knocked  down  and  shattered.  Commonplace  men 
came  and  went,  and,  sneering  at  the  reality  of  a  true 
and  soul-stirring  devotion  — crushed  into  the  belief 
that  the  world  is  nothing  but  a  practical  ma 
chine,  I  consented  to  marry  the  son  of  my  father's  de 
voted  friend,  but  one  day  a  cloud  blew  away  and  there, 
in  the  sunshine  of  a  glorious  truth — there  stood  the 

17 


558  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

man    I    loved.       Blind  —  we    have    both    been  blind, 
Philip." 

Looking  through  the  ringlets  that  were  tangledabout 
my  eyes,  I  saw  the  old  Colonel  standing  a  few  feet 
away,  with  his  arms  outstretched  toward  us.  The  ring 
lets  in  heavy  masses  fell  over  my  eyes,  and  when  again 
I  could  look,  the  old  man  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   BLUE-GRASS    GIRL. 

A  FEW  moments  later  —  it  may  have  been  two  hours, 
for  who,  thus  engaged,  could  mark  the  flight  of  time? 
—  we  heard  the  Colonel  walking,  with  unwonted  heavi 
ness  of  footstep,  down  the  hallway  toward  the  library 
door.  He  did  not  know  that  I  had  seen  him,  and  his 
heavy  walking  was  to  apprise  us  of  his  approach. 
When  he  entered,  Luzelle  and  I,  with  hands  joined, 
advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  Phil,"  said  he,  appearing  to  pay  noattention  to  the 
manner  in  which  his  daughter  and  I  presented  our 
selves,  "  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  have  rain  soon. 
Clouds  hanging  pretty  low  over  yonder  in  the  west." 

He  went  to  the  mantelpiece,  took  down  his  pipe, 
and,  as  he  was  preparing  to  light  it,  added:  "  We  gen 
erally  have  a  good  deal  of  rain  at  this  time  of  the  year. 
The  weather  seems  compelled  to  do  something,  and  as 
it  hasn't  got  quite  enough  courage  to  snow  very  much, 
takes  it  out  in  raining." 

He  sat  down  in  a  rocking-chair.  Luzelle  and  I 
stood  before  him. 

"  Colonel,"  I  began,  "  you  see " 

"  Yes,  I  see.  You  needn't  say  a  word.  Dip  my 
pipe  in  that  bed  of  coals,  Luzelle.  Goes  out  every 

minute.     Now  come  here,"  he  added,  speaking  to  Lu- 

259 


260  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

zelle  when  she  had  lighted  his  pipe,  "  sit  here  on  my 
knee.  Phil,  sit  down  on  the  sofa.  Now  we  are  all 
right." 

Luzelle  put  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  how  long  has  this  thing  been  going 
on?  I  mean  this  love  affair." 

"  It  began,"  I  answered,  "  on  the  day  when  I  made 
my  first  appearance  here,  but  until  just  now  we  were 
far  apart,  separated  by  blindness  of " 

11  You  were  not  far  apart  when  I  saw  you  just  now." 

He  laughed,  and  Luzelle  gave  him  a  convulsive 
squeeze. 

"We  misunderstood  each  other,"  I  continued,  "until 
just  now,  when,  on  a  sudden,  a  bright  light  fell  where 
a  darkness  had  been." 

"  I  didn't  know  that  such  a  state  of  affairs  existed," 
said  the  Colonel.  "  I  know  now  that  my  wife  has 
dropped  several  significant  hints,  but  I  was  so  wrapped 
up  in  selfish  plans  that  I  paid  no  attention  at  the  time. 
If  I  wanted  to  be  hypocritical,  I  would  show  serious 
concern,  but  as  it  is,  I  must  say  that  I  am  delighted. 
Sit  rignt  where  you  are,  Phil.  Luzelle,  you  are  deter 
mined  to  choke  my  pipe  out.  I  had  thought  —  for 
how  long  I  hardly  know  —  that  some  one  else  would 
be  my  con-in-law,  and  I  looked  on  in  a  matter-of- 
course  way;  but  now  it  is  different,  and  —  and  my  heart 
is  touched  with  a  feeling  of  thankfulness.  You  are  chok 
ing  my  pipe  out,  Luzelle.  I  have  never  disguised  the 
fact,  Phil,  that  I  am  strongly  attached  to  you.  From 
the  first  you  have  seemed  like  a  son  to  me.  Luzelle, 
you  may  go  and  tell  your  mother.  There  must  be  no 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  26 1 

embarrassment  connected  with  this  affair.  Phil,"  he 
added  when  Luzelle  had  left  the  room,  "  if  I  do  say  it 
myself  there  never  was  a  nobler  girl;  a  real  woman 
without  false  modesty.  She  ain't  much  of  a  talker  — 
can't  talk  nonsense  very  well,  but  she's  a  poet,  Phil,  a 
poet  content  with  feeling  poetry  and  not  trying  to  write 
it  —  she  is  a  Blue-grass  girl,  suh,  not  afraid  to  be 

natural.     I  heard  much  of  what " 

"  I  saw  you  standing  near  the  sofa,  Colonel." 
"  I  did  not  know  you  had  seen  me  until  I  came  back, 
and  then  I  supposed  you  had.  As  I  was  saying,  I  heard 
much  of  what  you  said  to  each  other,  and  of  course  I 
have  always  known  that  Luzelle  was  warm-hearted,  yet 
not  until  just  now  did  I  know  that  her  nature  was  so 
strongly  emotional.  The  greatest  women  may  not  be 
emotional,  but  I  think  the  truest  women  are.  The 
emotional  woman  has  a  warm  and  tender  preference, 
but  the  cold  woman  regards  all  men  alike.  I  am  going 
to  take  a  small  toddy  now  with  a  roasted  apple  mashed 
in  it.  Don't  think  I'm  going  to  take  too  much,  for  I'm 
not.  I  felt  bad  and  chilly  this  morning  or  I  wouldn't 
have  taken  any  at  all.  I  feel  my  liquor  just  a  little,  but 
I'll  pledge  you  my  word  and  honor,  Phil,  you'll  never 
see  me  directly  under  the  influence  of  it  again.  Old 
Mat  Collier  used  to  say,  '  Man,  born  of  woman,  is  of 
few  days  and  full.'  But  it  is  not  going  to  be  that  way 
with  me/' 

Those  were  days  of  sweet  enchantment.  Mrs.  Os- 
bury,  with  tearful  eyes,  told  me  that  she  had  known 
of  Luzelk's  deep  affection  for  me,  "  but,"  she  went 
on,  "  I  could  discover  no  sign  that  you  loved  her. 


262  ^  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

Love  is  sometimes  invisible  as  well  as  blind.  I  have 
never  seen  Remington  so  delighted;  unless,"  she 
added  blushingly,  "  it  was  when  coming  on  horses 
from  church,  one  day,  years  ago,  we  found,  at  every 
turn  of  the  road,  an  opportunity  to  kiss  each  other. 
Of  course  we  have  had  trials,  but  he  has  never  ceased 
to  be  affectionate." 

Every  day  Luzelle  surprised  me  with  the  unre 
strained  joyousness  of  her  nature.  I  had  no  work  to 
do,  as  we  were  waiting  for  the  proof-sheets  of  the  his 
tory,  and  my  time  —  a  delightful  time,  too  —  was  spent 
in  making  and  receiving  what  Luzelle  termed  "  sweet 
promises. "  The  weather  was  too  rainy  to  admit  of 
rambling  in  the  woods,  so  we  sat  in  the  library,  where 
the  fire  mutteringly  told  us  to  be  happy,  and  where  we 
could  see  the  rain-tears  trickling  down  a  great  oak 
that  grew  near  the  window. 

"  What  children  love  can  make  of  us  all!"  she  said, 
as  we  sat  looking  over  a  book  of  foolish  pictures. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  but  it  is  better  to  be  a  child, 
knowing  that  our  love  is  returned,  than  to  be  a  giant 
in  doubt." 

"  We  will  henceforth  be  children,"  she  replied;  we 
have  been  giants  long  enough.  Philip,  I  am  super 
stitious  as  well  as  devoted,  and  I  believe  that  some 
thing  awful  would  happen  if  you  were  to  stop  loving 
me  just  for  a  single  moment.  You  needn't  smile, "she 
added,  smoothing  back  my  hair,  "  for  I  actually  believe 
it.  I  claim  absolute  possession.  Your  mind  must  not 
wander  away  from  me  for  a  second.  But  won't  you 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  263 

forget  me  while  you  are  reading  that  good-for-nothing 
proof?" 

I  pressed  her  to  my  bosom.     There  was  a  divinely% 
quizzical  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Won't  you?"  she  asked. 

"  No,  precious." 

"  Won't  you  forget  me   when  you  are   marking  er, 
rors?" 

"  Oh,  I  might  then,  for  I  cannot  think  of  you  in. 
connection  with  an  error." 

"  What  a  shrewd  tease  you  are,  Philip.  You  will 
find,  one  of  these  days,  that  I  am  but  a  bundle  of  errors. 
Philip,"  she  said,  becoming  serious,  "  there  is  one  con 
dition  that  we  must  guard  against.  We  must  not 
permit  our  lives  to  become  commonplace.  The  evi 
dence  of  the  cynics  may  be  against  me,  but  I  do  not 
believe  that  true  love  becomes  cold  and  critical.  My 
father  and  mother  have  never  ceased  to  love  each 
other  devotedly.  Marriage  with  the  better  class  of 
people  in  Kentucky  is  not  shaped  into  a  humdrum  ex 
istence,  but  even  among  old  people  we  see  tender,  if 
not  romantic,  love." 

"Luzelle,  wise  cynics  may  say  what  they  please  — 
they  may  enumerate  divorce  suits  and  write  books  in 
contempt  of  sentiment,  but  I  do  not  believe  that  a  pure 
and  lofty  love  can  be  blotted  out.  This  age  prides 
itself  upon  its  wisdom,  and  looks  upon  the  vows  of 
lovers  as  the  exchange  of  foolish  and  ignorant  fancies, 
but  the  true  man  and  the  true  woman,  having  God- 
given  souls,  could  live  with  each  other  in  an  eternity  of 
affection.  No,  our  lives  shall  not  become  commonplace. 


264  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

Loving  each  other  and  loving  nature,  the  seasons  will 
bring  newness  of  interest.  In  the  spring  we  will  see 
the  buds  open,  and  in  the  autumn  we  will  watch  the 
leaves  fall.  We  will  let  the  world  struggle  with  its  fears 
and  its  ambitions;  and,  growing  old  together,  we  will 
stand  in  the  light  of  the  sunrise,  content  in  the  con 
templation  of  the  simple  duties  of  the  day;  and  when 
the  sun  goes  down  we  will  sit  in  the  garden  and  listen 
to  the  whisperings  of  the  evening." 

"  And  if  trouble  should  come  upon  us,  Philip,  you 
will  find  that  I  can  bear  it  bravely.  I  have  but  one 
cause  of  uneasiness." 

11  What  is  that,  Luzelle  ?  " 

"  The  fear  that  Boyd  Savely  may  return." 

"  Don't  let  that  worry  you." 

"  But  I  can't  help  it.  I  didn't  know  that  a  man 
could  be  so  desperate  as  he  is.  He  knows  one  thing, 
Philip.  He  knows,"  she  proudly  added,  "  that  you  are 
not  afraid  of  him." 

"  The  law,"  I  answered,  "  has  something  to  say  of 
his  coming  back;  but  even  if  he  should  come,  I  don't 
think  he  would  attempt  any  violence  upon  me." 

"  I  am  fearful  that  he  would,  Philip.' 

"Well,  if  he  should " 

"  Let  us  not  talk  about  him,"  she  broke  in,  "  for  I 
am  miserable  when  I  think  of  him — miserable  in  re 
membering  that  I  had  promised  to  be  his  wife.  But, 
Philip,"  she  added,  putting  her  arms  around  my  neck, 
"  he  must  have  known  that  I  did  not  love  him,  for  I  did 
not  permit  him  to " 

"  Kiss  you  ?"  I  said,  with  an  uncomfortable  recollec- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  265 

tion   of  HK  evening   when    he    stood   near  her   at  the 
piano. 

"  Kiss  me  !"  she  repeated  with  emphasis.  "  I  did  not 
even  allow  him  to  hold  my  hand.  Well,  for  goodness1 
sake,  here's  brother  Henry  !" 

I  sprang  up,  not  without  a  show  of  awkwardness, 
and  seized  Henry  by  the  hand. 

"  You  need  not  explain,"  said*he.  "  I  have  heard 
all  about  it.  Luzelle,  you  look  as  rich  as  an  oil  paint 
ing." 

He  fondly  kissed  her,  and,  seating  himself,  humor 
ously  remarked  that  he  had  thought  seriously  of  falling 
in  love  with  some  one,  but  that  the  close  confinement 
incident  to  a  life  of  business  kept  him  from  making  a 
suitable  selection.  "  I  had  thought  of  Miss  Bumpus," 
said  he,  "  but  was  reminded  that  the  harsh  affairs  of  the 
real- estate  dealer  can  only  produce  an  ill  coloring  when 
mixed  with  the  romantic  vocation  of  the  tragic  play 
wright." 

"  You  shall  not  make  fun  of  Miss  Annie,"  Luzelle 
declared,  pretending  to  be  serious,  but  smiling  in  spite 
of  herself. 

"  I  have  no  disposition  to  make  fun  of  her.  On  th& 
contrary,  I  have  the  highest  regard  for  her.  So  able  a 
dramatic  writer  and  so  unassuming  a  person  lays  a 
strong  hand  upon  my  affections.  And  I  hear  that  she 
is  an  actress  of  thrilling  force;  but  with  regard  to  this 
accomplishment  I  must  submit  to  your  judgment,  as 
you  have  had  the  pleasure " 

"  Philip,  make  him  hush." 

"  Henry,"  said  I,  "  you  have  not  congratulated  us." 


266  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  My  seeming  unconcern,  Phil,  should  serve  as 
congratulation,  but  as  it  does  not,  let  me  say  that  I  am 
greatly  tickled.  This  thing  of  picking  up  the  right 
kind  of  brother-in-law  is  not  an  easy  matter;  so  when 
our  sisters  please  us  in  this  respect  we  should  not  only 
be  thankful,  but  ought  to  be  happy.  If  you  can  beg 
off,  Phil,  we  will  take  a  stroll." 

"  The  weather  is  too  bad,"  Luzelle  answered. 

"  What?  Has  the  reign  of  tender  tyranny  begun  al 
ready  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  it  has  begun,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  when  will  it  end  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  arising  and 
imitating  the  school-boy  orator.  "  Will  it  be  the 
'  next  week  or  the  next  year'  ?  Will  it  be  when  the 
kisses  of  the  honeymoon  have  rusted  in  two  the  log 
chain  of  this  alliance  ?  Phil,  I  sympathize  with  you. 
No  ?  "  he  added,  meeting  Luzelle's  quick  glance. 
"  Well,  then,  I  sympathize  with  both  of  you." 

"  Philip,  Henry  is  one  of  the  cynics  who  cry  out 
against  the  possibility  of  a  happy  marriage." 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  have  uttered  no  cry,"  he  replied, 
resuming  his  seat  and  carelessly  crossing  his  legs. 
*  Having  never  been  married,  and  having  paid  but  lit 
tle  attention  to  the  solemn  institution  of  marriage,  I 
know  but  little  about  it.  I  don't  think  it  would  suit 
me.  I  am  willing  to  share  many  pleasures,  but  I  do 
not  want  the  half  of  any  trouble.  A  handsome  woman 
who  is  in  love  is  to  the  man  whom  she  loves  a  pleasing 
sight ;  but  even  the  most  beautiful  woman,  standing  in 
a  high  state  of  peevish  authority,  must  become  tire 
some  to  the  man  who  has  joyously  made  himself  her 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  26  J 

slave.  If  a  man  loves  his  wife  he  has  lost  his  freedom; 
if  he  does  not  love  her  his  home  life  is  a  bore." 

"  Henry,"  she  cried,  "  I  won't  listen  to  such  talk,  for 
you  make  me  think  you  are  narrow  and  selfish  when  I 
know  that  you  are  broad  and  generous." 

"  Sit  down,  sister;  I  was  joking.  You  must  know 
that,  with  the  example  of  our  father  and  mother  con 
stantly  before  me,  I  must  be  the  last  man  to  speak 
seriously  against  the  noble  devotion  of  the  true  hus 
band  and  the  true  wife.  One  of  these  days  I  may 
meet  a  girl  who  can  make  me  step  right  out  and  dance 
a  jig.  You  must  not  pay  much  attention  to  me  to 
day,  for  I  am  prankish." 

"  What  has  made  you  prankish  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Don't  know  ;  get  that  way  sometimes  in  spite  of 
myself.  Where's  father's  pipe  ?  Hand  it  over  this 
way,  will  you,  little  girl  ?  Thank  you." 

He  lighted  the  pipe  and  for  a  time  sat  smoking  in 
silence.  After  awhile  he  asked  : 

"  Phil,  have  you  seen  this  month's  Venerable  East 
Magazine  ?  " 

""No;  mine  hasn't  come." 

"  I  left  a  copy  in  mother's  room.  Go  and  get  it, 
Luzelle,  please." 

Luzelle  brought  the  magazine,  and  Henry,  taking  it, 
remarked  as  he  began  to  turfi  the  leaves:  "  I  saw 
something  in  this  number  that  may  interest  you  — 
something  with  regard  to  a  writer  whom  we  have  dis 
cussed.  Here  it  is." 

He  handed  the  magazine  to  me,  and  pointed  out  the 
following: 


268  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  About  two  years  ago  the  Venerable  East  began  to  print  verses  from  a 
writer  who,  as  the  author  of  the  novel,  '  The  Moss  Side  of  the  Tree,'  has 
become  famous.  Elvis  Wigglesworth  is  now  as  much  talked  of  as  any 
writer  in  the  country,  but  the  newspapers  publish  no  interviews  with  him. 
and  no  anecdotes  (a  sort  of  grass  that  grows  where  the  wheat  of  fame  has 
been  reaped)  are  related  of  him.  Having  received  a  large  number  of 
letters,  making  all  sorts  of  inquiries  concerning  the  place  of  residence, 
age,  habits  and  personal  appearance  of  Wigglesworth,  we  wrote  to  that 
gentleman,  requesting  the  permission  to  publish  his  real  name.  A  reluctant 
answer  granted  us  that  privilege.  His  name  is  Henry  Osbury,  and  he 
lives  in  Emryville,  a  village  situated  in  Shellcut  County,  Kentucky.  Judg 
ing  by  what  we  have  been  able  to  learn  from  a  literary  connection  with 
him,  we  regard  him  as  a  sort  of  a  lazily  genial  man,  who  cares  nothing  for 
notoriety  and  who  has  a  deep  love  for  books."  4 

Before  I  could  say  anything,  Luzelle,  who,  looking 
over  my  shoulder,  had  read  the  article,  exclaimec1: 

"  Well,  you  good-for-nothing  thing,  why  didn't  you 
tell  us?" 

"  Henry,"  said  I,  as  I  warmly  shook  his  hand,  "  of 
course  I  am  surprised  to  know  that  you  are  Elvis  Wig 
glesworth,  but  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  that  you 
can  write  a  pleasing  poem  or  an  interesting  book. 
From  the  first  moment  of  our  association  I  have 
thought  that  you  were  capable  of  doing  excellent 
literary  work,  but  I  did  not  think  that  you  could — — " 

"  Shake  off  my  indolence,"  he  laughingly  suggested. 

"  Well,  yes,  that's  it.  The  fact  is  singular,  yet 
nevertheless  true,  that  a  great  deal  of  literary  work 
has  been  done  by  the  most  careless  and  laziest  men." 

"  Henry,"  said  Luzelle,  "  I  am  just  as  proud  of  you 
as  I  can  be.  But  you  ought  to  be  scolded  for  keeping 
us  in  the  dark. " 

"  Oh,  no;  that  was  to  aid  my  art,  for,  to  show  my 
magic-lantern  pictures  to  best  advantage,  it  was  neces- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  269 

sary  to  keep  you  in  the  dark.  Phil,  you  will  try  your 
hand  at  romances  now  that  the  history  is  completed, 
won't  you?  " 

"  No,  he  shan't,"  Luzelle  answered.  "  Men  who 
write  novels  fall  in  love  with  their  characters,  and  if 
Philip  writes  at  all  he  must  confine  himself  to  facts.  If 
he  were  to  write  a  book  with  a  beautiful  woman  in  i:  I 
would  burn  it  up." 

"  But,  suppose,"  said  Henry,  "  that  hia  women  were 
all  ugly." 

I  wouldn't  like  that  either,  for  a  writer  has  to  pay 
quite  as  much  attention  to  an  ugly  woman  as  he  does 
to  a  pretty  one.  Philip  must,  as  papa  declares  he  shall, 
take  charge  of  the  farm.  I  don't  want  him  to  write  a 
novel  and  have  literary  women  corresponding  with 
him.  Literary  women  are  nearly  always  sympathy- 
hunters." 

"  Look  here,  Luzelle,"  Henry  replied,  regarding  her 
seriously,  "  I  didn't  know  that  you  could  be  so  jealous. " 

"  I'm  jealous  because  I  am  a  woman.  I  might  hide 
it,  as  many  women  do — and  of  course  I  would  in  the 
presence  of  ladies  —  but  just  now  I  want  to  impress 
upon  Philip's  mind  the  fact  that  he  must  give  me  no 
cause  for  jealousy." 

At  the  supper  table  there  was  great  surprise,  fol 
lowed  by  hearty  congratulations,  when  Henry  revealed 
to  his  father,  mother  and  uncle  the  identity  of  Elvis 
Wigglesworth. 

Why,  by  George,  suh!  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel, 
"  I  am  getting  proud  of  the  Osbury  family. " 

"  Papa,"  Luzelle  rejoined,  smiling  mischievously  at 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

me,  "  I  thought  you  said  that  the  book  was  not  very 
good  and  not  very  bad." 

"  Thought  who  said  so?  "  the  Colonel  exclaimed. 

"  Thought  you  did." 

"  Ain't  you  mistaken  about  that?  " 

"  I  heard  you  say  it,  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury. 

"  Well,  now  here,  you  are  crowding  the  old  man 
pretty  close.  Mary,  if  you  say  so,  I  reckon  you  are 
right.  You  are  as  right  in  regard  to  what  I  said  as  I 
was  wrong  in  regard  to  the  book." 

"  Don't  let  it  worry  you,"  Henry  said.  "  There  is 
in  the  book  just  enough  strength  of  underpinning  to 
hold  up  the  platform  of  weakness.  It  is  a  pity  that  in 
writing  we  do  not  know  when  we  are  doing  weak 
work.  We  often  mistake  smoothness  for  weakness, 
and  roughness  for  strength.  By  the  way,  when  does 
this  marriage  take  place?  " 

"  The  1 5th  of  April,"  I  answered. 

"  Going  to  take  a  sort  of  wedding  jaunt,  I  suppose. 
Go  as  far  as  Emryville,  at  least,  won't  you?  " 

"  We  are  going  to  New  Orleans,"  Luzelle  replied. 

"  Have  you  written  to  Fred?  " 

"  Yes,  anr1  he  says  that  he  will  be  here." 

"  Henry,  I've  been  thinkin',"  said  old  Buck,  "  thai 
you  might  wi.'te  a  play.  Tell  you  what  you  do.  You 
fix  up  one,  and  I  will  take  it  around  the  country  and 
make  some  money.  You  may  say  what  you  please, 
but  Miss  Bumpus  does  first-rate." 

"Why,  then,  did  you  disband  your  'Blue  Grass 
Combination'?  "  Henry  asked. 

"  Oh,  well,  the  main  reason  was  that  Luzelle  had  to 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


271 


come  away.  We'd  have  made  money  if  we  had  kept 
on.  I  knew,  as  soon  as  I  read  that  book,  that  the 
writer,  whoever  he  was,  could  fix  up  a  play. '' 

"  Buck,  did  you  read  the  book?  "  the  Colonel  asked. 

"  Read  it!  I  read  it  twice.  Don't  you  recolleck  I 
spoke  to  you  about  it?  " 

41  No,  I  have  no  such  recollection." 

"Well,  I  did." 

*  Read  it  twice,  you  say?" 

"That's  what  I  done." 

"  What  is  it  about?" 

"  W'y,  it's  about  people." 

"  What  are  their  names? 

"  Oh,  I  don't  exactly  remember." 

The  Colonel  winked  at  Henry. 

That  night  we  were  visited  by  Major  Hammondsv 
Captain  Jinny  and  Miss  Annie  Bumpus.  I  was  much 
pleased  upon  seeing  that  Hammonds  had  not  brought 
his  riddle,  for,  several  evenings  before,  when  the  Colonel 
and  I  had  visited  the  Major,  he  had  given  us  so  much 
of  his  tune,  "  Whip  the  Devil,"  that,  however  strongly 
I  may  have  been  in  favor  of  all  Christian  organizations, 
I  did  not  care  to  be  present  at  another  threshing  of 
Satan.  Hammonds  took  a  seat  some  distance  from 
the  fire-place,  and,  upon  being  spoken  to  by  some  one, 
seized  his  whiskers,  "  ducked "  his  head,  and  then, 
seeming  by  accident  to  have  discovered  the  fire,  spat 
with  a  loud  "  pit-too,"  wiped  his  mouth,  crossed  hjs 
legs  with  a  quick  flounce,  and  said,  "  Yep,  I  think  so." 

Jinny's  "  imperial  "  was  still  in  a  high  state  of  culti 
vation,  and  while  not  looking,  with  a  fat  smile,  at  Miss 


272 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONhL. 


Bumpus,  who  was  giving  old  Buck  the  outlines  of  a 
projected  dramatic  work,  he  sat  combing  his  mustache 
with  a  nickel-back  comb  that  opened  like  a  razor. 

"  Henry,"  I  asked  in  an  undertone,  "  are  you  going 
to  tell  those  people  that  you  are  Elvis  Wigglesworth?  '; 

"  No,  they  have  never  heard  of  him." 

"  Miss  Bumpus  has,  I  suppose." 

"  No;  she  hasn't.  She  has  never  heard  of  anything 
except  flash  story  papers.  If  I  were  to  tell  Hammonds 
that  I  have  written  a  book,  he  would,  incident  to  mak 
ing  inquiries,  snatch  off  his  whiskers  and  spit  himself 
to  death.  Now  pay  attention  to  Jinny.  Major,"  (ad 
dressing  Hammonds),  "  while  in  Louisville  the  other 
day,  I  ate  some  Baltimore  oysters." 

Hammonds  "  ducked  "  his  head,  seized  his  whiskers, 
spat  in  the  fire  and  remarked  that  the  Baltimore  oyster 
was  of  good  flavor,  "  but,"  he  added,  "  I  don't  think  it 
is  the  best.  I " 

"  Eli,"  said  Jinny,  "  if  you  were  in  Norfolk  to-night, 
what  would  you  order?  " 

Hammonds  gave  a  flounce,  pulled  his  whiskers  until 
his  lower  teeth  were  visible,  and  replied: 

"  Well,  Joe,  I'd  go  down  to " 

"  Luzelle,"  cried  the  Colonel,  "play  something  — 
no  matter  what,  but  play  something.  Major,  Henry  is 
the  author  of  that  famous  novel,  'The  Moss  Side  of  the 
Tree.'" 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  Hammonds  exclaimed. 

"  You  have  read  the  book,  haven't  you,  Major?  "  the 
Colonel  asked. 

"  Well— er— well,  no,  I  haven't.      The  fact  is,  I  have 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


273 


been  so  busy  lately  that  I  haven't  had  time  to  read  any 
thing." 

"  What  is  that?"  said  Miss  Bumpus.  "  Who  is  it 
that  has  written  a  book?" 

"  My  son  Henry,"  the  Colonel  answered. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed  the  author  of 
"The  Baron's  Daughter;  or,  The  Whispering  Duke," 
"  When  are  you  going  to  have  it  printed,  Mr.  Henry?'' 

"  It  has  been  printed,"  said  Henry,  glancing  slyly  at 
me  and  ludicrously  drawing  down  the  corners  of  his 
mouth. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  say  so!     Where  was  it  printed?" 

"In  New  York." 

Gracious  me!"  she  exclaimed,"  I  am  going  to  send 
my  book  there.     Wouldn't  you,  Captain  Jinny?" 

"  B'lieve  I  would,"  the  Captain  replied,  opening  his 
razor-like  comb  and  raking  his  mustache. 

"  Henry,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  didn't  you  find  the 
publishers  to  be  wolves>  suh?" 

"  No;  for,  upon  the  contrary,  they  have  treated  me 
very  generously." 

"  But  didn't  they  haggle  and  try  to  belittle  your 
manuscript?" 

"  No;  the  truth  is  they  accepted  it  at  once  and  wrote 
me  a  very  kind  letter." 

"  Well,  they'll  get  my  book,  sure,"  said  Miss 
Bumpus.  "  I  think  that  such  kindness  of  heart  should 
be  rewarded." 

Luzelle,  who  had  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  asked 
her  father  if  she  should  play. 

"  No,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  not  now." 


274  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

Later,  when  Henry  had  spoken  again  of  the  oysters 
which  he  had  eaten  in  Louisville,  the  Colonel,  observing 
that  Hammonds  had  begun  to  "duck"  his  head, 
declared  he  must  have  music,  but  a  quick  change  of 
subject  again  released  Luzelle. 

Yes,  those  were  days  of  sweet  enchantment.  The 
harsh  winds  of  March  sank  into  the  gentle  sighings  of 
April.  The  proof-sheets  had  been  read  and  returned 
to  the  printers.  Luzelle  and  her  mother  had  brought 
bundles  of  goods  into  the  house,  and  I  frequently  over 
heard  conversations  relative  to  seams  and  gores;  and 
once  when  the  Colonel  tore  off  a  strip  of  newspaper  to 
light  his  pipe,  Mrs.  Osbury  exclaimed:  "  Mercy  on  us, 
the  man  has  ruined  the  pattern!" 

One  evening  Luzelle  and  I  sat  on  a  bench  under  the 
lilac  bushes.  Each  bud  seemed  to  have  a  tender  senti 
ment  wrapped  up  in  its  unfolding  breast. 

"  Luzelle,  do  you  realize  that  you  are  to  be  married 
to-morrow?" 

"Yes." 

"And  do  you  feel " 

"  I  do  not  feel  anything,  Philip,  except  that  I  love 
you.  You  do  not  believe  that  if  a  man  loves  his  wife 
he  loses  his  freedom,  do  you?" 

"  No,  that  is  merely  one  of  Henry's  sayings.  To  me, 
Luzelle,  without  loving  you  and  being  loved  by  you, 
there  would  be  no  freedom,  no  sunshine." 

"  And  you  do  not  believe  that  our  romance  —  I  can 
think  of  no  other  term  —  which  is  so  bright  a  flower 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL,  275 

now,  will  one  day  be  dead,  pressed  between  the  leaves 
of  an  almost  forgotten  book?" 

"  No,  precious." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  you  will  ever  grow  weary  of 
me,"  she  said,  "  but  sometimes,  remembering  the  many 
things  that  I  have  read,  I  become  low-spirited.  What 
a  beautiful  evening  this  is.  See,  the  blue-birds  are 
building  their  nests." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AN   EARLY   ARRIVAL. 

A  RAY  of  sunlight  awoke  me  the  next  morning,  arid 
I  lay  musing  over  the  fierce,  the  wild  and  the  gentle 
experiences  that  had,  in  their  turn,  come  to  me 
since  the  first  night  I  had  slept  in  that  bed.  I  thought 
of  the  morning  when  I  had  first  seen  the  sunbeams 
falling  in  at  that  window;  how  I  had,  after  a  strong  call 
upon  pride,  resolved  to  go  down-stairs  a  firmer  man 
than  I  had  been  upon  ascending  to  my  room,  and  how, 
upon  seeing  Luzelle  again,  my  resolution  had  suddenly 
unfolded  a  pair  of  hidden  wings  and  sailed  away.  I 
thought  of  the  man  who  in. the  hotel  had  said  that  a 
mere  reaching  forth  of  the  hand  might  change  the 
course  of  a  life;  I  thought  of  the  detective,  of  Lark 
Moss,  of  the  terrible  fight  in  Emryville,  and  of  the 
dreadful  storm  that  had  roared  along  the  turnpike  as  an 
awful  companion  of  my  wild  flight.  I  thought  of  the 
tempest's  subsiding  growl  as  it  rolled  back  into  the 
ravine  near  the  spout  spring.  I  thought  of  all  this,  and 
then  with  a  thrill  I  thought:  "  And  this  is  to  be  our 
wedding  day." 

When  I  went  down-stairs  I  found  Luzelle  standing 
on  the  gallery,  looking  far  away  over  the  clover- 
fields.  She  turned,  and,  seeing  me,  advanced,  holding 
out  her  hands. 

"  Philip,"  she  said,  when  I  had  kissed  her,  "  there  are 

276 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


27; 


no  dead  vines  to  be  brushed  away  now.  See,  the 
morning-glories  are  about  to  bloom." 

I  knew  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  morning  when 
we  had  stood  on  the  gallery,  watching  the  flashes  of 
light  chase  away  the  deepening  purple;  when  she  had 
brushed  away  the  dead  vines,  and  had  seemed,  as  she 
stood  there  wrapped  in  a  cream-colored  shawl,  to  be 
less  ethereal,  but  more  lovely,  because  more  of  a  woman 
than  I  had  hitherto  regarded  her. 

"  You  forget  nothing,  Luzelle." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  for  the  memory  of  the  past  is 
one  of  the  sweets  of  the  present.  Did  you  know  that 
brother  Henry  had  come?  " 

"  What,  so  early?  " 

"  Yes,  and  he  walked.  Just  think  of  it  —  walked  on 
the  very  occasion  when  he  should  have  taken  care  of 
his  appearance.  I  have  never  known  him  to  walk 
before.  Now  he  looks  as  if  he  had  been  out  hunting. 
He's  soiled  with  dew  —  oh,  he  looks  provokingly  bad. 
Yonder  he  is,  playing  with  the  dogs.  Look  at  them 
putting  their  dirty  feet  on  him.  I  am  almost  angry  at 
him.  I  asked  him  why  he  hadn't  brought  another  suit 
of  clothes,  and  he  said  that  he  thought  the  suit  he  had 
on  would  last  him  until  he  got  back  to  town." 

I  hastened  to  greet  my  friend;  and,  as  my  attention 
had  been  so  directed,  paid  particular  attention  to  his 
clothes.  I  must  say,  too  (though  this  may  have  been 
a  mere  fancy),  that  he  had  paid  less  attention  than  usual 
to  his  personal  appearance. 

"  Ha,  you  didn't  expect  to  see  me  so  soon,  did 
you?  " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  No.  The  fine  morning  tempted  you,  I  suppose." 
"  Tempted  me  after  I  was  awake,  but  did  not  awake 
me.  I  was  awakened  by  the  screaking  of  the  windlass 
of  the  town  well  in  the  public  square.  What  is  more 
dreary  than  the  early  morning  screak  of  the  ungreased 
windlass  of  the  public  well?  You  hear  the  bang  of  a 
door  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  square,  and  if  you 
listen  closely,  you  may  hear  the  unsteady  footsteps  of 
some  fellow  who  has  started  out  in  the  evening  with 
spirited  horse  talk,  who  has  ushered  in  midnight  with 
a  profane  declaration  that  he  can  whip  any  man  who  is 
not  his  friend,  and  who,  penniless  and  feverish,  greets 
the  morning  with  a  hot  hiccough.  Then  the  windlass 
screaks.  How  slowly  the  bucket  must  seem  to  come 

up- 

"  You  appear  to  speak  from  experience." 

"  Well,  I've  been  an  all-night  miscreant  several  times 
in  my  life,  but  have  forsworn  the  early  door  that  shuts 
with  an  unfriendly  bang.  No  longer  do  I  arouse  a  red- 
eyed  man  of  spotless  shirt-bosom,  who  dozes  behind 
the  bar,  and  ask  him  to  make  an  eye-opening  cocktail. 
No,  my  boy,  I'm  the  enemy  of  strong  drink;  and  who 
is  so  uncompromising  an  enemy  of  the  accursed  stuff 
as  the  man  who  has  sung  over  it?  You  don't  drink,  do 
you?" 

"  I  have  sung  over  it  for  the  last  time,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  the  windlass  awoke  me,  and, 
unable  to  sleep  again,  I  went  out  for  a  stroll.  While 
strolling  I  followed  a  trail  of  musing  that  led  me  so 
close  to  home  that  I  decided  not  to  turn  back,  but  to 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


279 


come  on  to  the  wedding.     Luzelle  is  calling  us.    Break 
fast  is  ready,  I  suppose?" 

"  Henry,"  said  the  Colonel,  when'  we  had  all  seated 
ourselves  at  the  table,  "  have  they  finished  shucking 
the  corn?" 

"  Who?     I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 
"  Why,  judging   from   your  appearance  this  morn-* 
ing,  I  didn't  know  but  you  had  been  to  a  corn-shuck 
ing." 

"  Remington,"  Mrs.  Osbury  interposed,  "  don't  twit 

h» 
im. 

"  Let  him  go,  mother;  let  him  go,"  Henry,  in  his 
unruffled  way,  replied.  "  You'll  be  proud  of  my  fine 
appearance  by  the  time  the  articles  of  agreement  are 
all  arranged.  I've  got  a  wedding  garment  somewhere 
up-stairs  —  a  black  coat  that  I  left  here  —  summer  be 
fore  last,  I  believe." 

"  Gracious  me,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  the  moths 
have  eaten  it  up  long  ago." 

"  Now,  here,  I  am  not  responsible  for  what  the 
moths  have  done,"  he  answered.  "  I  can't  devote 
very  much  of  my  time  to  thinking  about  moths.  I 
knew  that  I  was  coming  to  a  wedding,  and  I  naturally 
supposed  that  my  garment  was  here,  but  if  the  moths 
have  feasted  on  it,  why,  the  responsibility  be  upon 
them  and  their  children." 

"  Seems  to  me,"  Uncle  Buck  remarked,  "  that  a 
man  that's  got  rich  off  of  a  book  can  afford  to  buy  him 
a  coat  whenever  he  wants  it." 

"  Yes,  a  man  can  when  he  is  made  rich  by  the  sale 
of  a  book." 


280  A  KEF-TUCKY  COLONEL 

"  You  don't  mea^  to  say  that  you  haven't  made 
money?" 

"Very  little."  * 

"What!"  the  Colonel  exclaimed.  "You  haven't 
made  money?  After  all  the  newspaper  talk  and  all 
the  fuss  generally,  you  have  made  no  money?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  made  some,  but  even  a  successful 
book  brings  to  the  author  more  notoriety  than  money. 
And  the  notoriety  is  scattered  —  it  is  only  among  a 
certain  class  of  people.  The  people  in  Emryville  don't 
know  anything  about  my  book.  A  member  of  the 
literary  society  there  congratulated  me.  I  was  gratified 
until  I  learned  that  he  thought  I  had  drawn  a  lottery 
prize.  Wonder  why  Fred  didn't  come?" 

"  Fell  in  love  with  some  old  lady  on  the  way  and 
stopped  to  woo  her,"  the  Colonel  replied. 

"  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  you  must  not 
speak  so  of  the  child." 

"  We!5,  Mary,  I  don't  know,  you  understand,  but 
merely  suppose  so." 

"  I  have  engaged  music  for  this  occasion,"  Henry 
remarked. 

"  Music!  "  Luzelle  exclaimed.  "  We  don't  want  any 
Tiusic  — we  won't  have  any,  will  we,  Philip?  We  want 
'his  to  be  the  most  quiet  and  informal  marriage  that 
vas  ever  known  in  this  neighborhood." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,  sister,  or  I  should  not  have 
made  arrangements  contrary  to  such  an  intention.  I 
saw  Hammonds  yesterday  and  told  him  to  bring  his 
'iddle  with  him,  and  that  Uncle  Buck  with  his  flute — " 

"  I'll  be  snatched  if  I'm  going  to  be  made  fun  of  this 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  28l 

way,"  Buck  exclaimed.  "  Here  I've  been  workin'  like 
a  nigger  that  other  people  might  enjoy  themselves, 
and  —  well,  I  won't  stand  it,  Remington;  I  swear  I 
won't.  Toilin'  like  a  slave  while  other  people  air  sittin' 
back  in  their  offices  livin'  on  the  fat  of  the  land. " 

"  Wait,"  said  Henry,  "  you  didn't  let  me  finish.  I 
told  him  that  you  with  your  flute  would  be  an  addition 
to  any  orchestra,  but  that  you  played  only  for  your 
own  delectation." 

"  You  didn't  tell  him  no  such  of  a  thing,  suh,  and 
you  know  it,"  Buck  roared. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  let  it  all  go;  all  go. 
Buck,  you  are  getting  to  be  as  touchous  as  a  stone- 
bruise." 

"  Yes;  but,  Remington,  I  don't  want  anybody  to  be 
all  the  time  punchin'  me.  If  Hammonds  brings  that 
fiddle  here,  I'll  be  zounds  if  I  don't  break  it,  or  have  a 
mighty  rassle  with  him.  " 

The  ceremony  was  to  be  performed  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  and  immediately  after  dinner  the"  happy 
couple  "  —  as  the  newspapers  say —  were  to  set  out  for 
Emryville  to  "  catch  "  —  another  journalist's  expression 
—  the  four  o'clock  train.  We  had  all  agreed  to  em 
ploy  ourselves,  during  the  morning,  in  our  usual  way, 
drawing  about  us  none  of  the  solemnities  and  embar 
rassments  of  an  approaching  marriage.  Mrs.  Osbury, 
to  whom  we  were  compelled  to  grant  a  mother's  privi 
lege,  would  occasionally  indulge  the  luxury  of  a  dis 
tressing  sigh,  but  the  Colonel  was  more  than  usually 
cheerful,  Henry  was  prankish,  and  Luzelle  was  as  bright 
as  the  beantiful  morning.  Uacle  Buck  seemed  to  be 


282  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

impatient,  and,  at  quite  an  early  hour,  began  to 
"fidget"  around  and  take,  from  the  gallery  door, 
occasional  peeps  at  the  clock.  I  afterward  learned 
that  he  was  extremely  proud  of  the  figure  he  presented 
upon  any  extra  occasion,  and  that  his  anxious  glances 
at  the  clock  were  prompted  by  a  fear  that  he  might  not 
have  time  enough  to  dress  himself  properly.  The  old 
man  fought,  during  two  hours,  his  keen  anxiety,  and 
then  went  up-stairs.  About  an  hour  later  he  came 
down,  arrayed,  as  Henry  expressed  it,  in  his  fierce  regi 
mentals.  He  wore  white  linen  pantaloons,  with  traces 
of  mildew  about  the  knees,  a  satin  "  wescut "  with  gourd- 
shaped  figures;  yellow  gloves,  a  bronze-colored  cravat, 
and  a  blue  cloth  coat,  with  brass  buttons,  woefully 
pigeon-tailed.  When  he  came  out  on  the  gallery  where 
the  rest  of  the  family  sat,  Henry,  looking  up  in  well 
put-on  surprise,  said: 

"  Why,  Uncle  Buck,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  us  at 
such  a  time  as  this,  are  you?  " 
"  Leave!     What  do  you  mean?  " 
"  There  are  plenty  of  days  when  you  can  drill." 
"  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean,  Henry?  " 
"  Why,  haven't  you  rigged  yourself  up  for  a  military 
parade?" 

The  old  man  snorted  like  a  horse.  "  Military  pa 
rade!"  he  roared.  "  I'll  be  eternally  blowed  if  I  am 
going  to  stand  this  persecution  much  longer.  There 
was  a  time  —  and  you  know  the  time,  Remington  — 
when  a  gentleman  could  dress  himself  in  a  respectable 
way  without  being  sneered  at;  but  now,  if  he  tries  to 
look  decent,  a  howl  is  raised.  This  infernal  age  is  not 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  283 

satisfied  with  grinding  a  gentleman  down  till  he  has  to 
work  like  a  nigger  from  mornin*  'till  night,  but  wants 
him  to  dress  like  a  nigger." 

He  sat  down  with  a  violence  that  jarred  the  gallery, 
and,  looking  at  Henry,  slowly  winked  his  eyes  and 
shook  his  head  like  an  old-time  negro  when  compelled 
to  do  something  against  his  will. 

"  I  didn't  mean  anything,  Uncle  Buck." 

"  No,  of  course  not.  Young  men  never  mean  any 
thing  these  days.  When  I  was  of  your  age  —  but  it's 
not  worth  while  to  talk  to  you,  for  you  don't  profit  by 
example." 

"  Henry,"  Mrs.  Osbury  sighingly  said, "  don't  worry 
him." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  worry  him,  mother.  He  hasn't 
got  a  better  friend  in  the  world  than  I  am.  I've  got  a 
very  old  meerschaum  pipe  in  my  office —  man  gave  it 
to  me  the  other  day  —  and  I  intended  to  bring  it  down 
to  Uncle  Buck,  but  forgot  it." 

"  I  wish  to  gracious  you  had  fetched  it,  Henry! "  the 
old  man  exclaimed.  "  You  may  talk  about  cobs  and 
clays,  but  the  meerschaum  fits  me.  Had  one  once  that 
must  have  cost  fifty  dollars.  Tom  Marshall  gave  it  to 
me.  Yes,  suh,  bring  that  pipe  down  the  next  time  you 
come. ^  You  know  what  I'm  going  to  have?  I'm 
going  to  have  the  earliest  tomattuses  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  I'm  going  to  give  you  the  first  one  that 
gets  ripe. " 

Henry  did  not  doubt  that  Uncle  Buck  would  have 
the  earliest  tomatoes,  but  he  did  doubt  that  the  old 
man  would  part  with  them.  The  production  of  early 


284  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

tomatoes  was  one  of  Buck's  specialties.  He  sometimes 
had  slips  ready  to  set  out  before  any  one  else  had 
planted  seeds,  but  his  enterprise  was  not  followed  by 
generosity,  for  not  until  the  crop  became  abundant 
would  he  permit  any  one  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  — 
well,  I  suppose  industry  is  the  word.  When  any  one 
approached  the  vines  about  the  time  the  first  tomatoes 
were  ripening,  Old  Buck  was  sure  to  be  near;  and 
when  the  ripening  came  the  old  fellow  would  pick  oft 
the  tomatoes,  carry  them  triumphantly  to  the  house, 
slice  them  with  a  knife  that  he  had  carefully  sharpened, 
tenderly  place  the  slices  on  a  dish,  and  then  place  the 
dish  at  his  own  plate.  No  one  dared  to  ask  for  a 
slice.  Once  a  boy,  the  son  of  a  visitor,  called  out  at 
table  that  he  wanted  some  tomatoes.  Old  Buck 
dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  gazed  at  the  boy  as  if  by 
his  awful  look  he  could  strike  the  little  fellow  dead, 
angrily  shoved  the  dish  toward  him  with  a  command 
to  "  take  'em  all,"  arose  with  a  sigh  of  despair,  went 
out,  and  did  not  for  more  than  two  days  speak  to  any 
member  of  the  family. 

"  I'll  remember  your  kind  offer,  Uncle  Buck." 

The  old  man  winced,  but  said:  "  All  right.  You 
bring  that  pipe  with  you,  and  you'll  find  me  on  hand." 

"  Philip,"  said  Luzelle,  "  let  us  walk  in  the  garden 
before  any  of  the  guests  come." 

We  sat  on  the  bench  under  the  lilac  bushes.  A 
humming-bird  shook  the  dew  from  an  early  rose,  and  a 
cat-bird  sang  in  the  top  of  the  pear  tree.  Nature  had 
just  come  from  a  perfumed  bath. 

"  1  have  worn  the  cream-colored   shawl,  you  see," 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  285 

she  said,  looking  up  with  a  smile  so  pathetically  sweet 
that  a  mist  came  down  and  hung  before  my  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  and  it  brings  up  the  picture 
of  the  morning  when  you  brushed  away  the  dead 
vines.  I  did  not  know  then  that  you  could  be  so 
gentle,  Luzelle." 

She  smiled  again,  and  that  indescribable  light  which 
seems  to  be  reflected  by  the  mind's  sudden  imagery 
shone  in  her  eyes.  "  Nothing  can  be  fiercer  than  a 
young  deer  that  is  enraged,"  she  said,  "  and  yet  what 
can  be  gentler  or  more  loving  than  the  same  fawn. 
Gentleness  is  passion  that  has  sunk  into  a  dreamy 
sleep." 

"  Yes,  for  the  most  passionate  people  are  often  the 
gentlest.  We  are  all  governed  by  emotion,  and  I 
sometimes  think  that  the  soul  is  emotion.  Take  the 
men  who  we  say  have  small  souls;  we  find  they  have 
but  little  emotion.  -The  unemotional  man  may  be 
just,  but  I  doubt  if  he  can  be  generous." 

"  When  I  awoke  in  the  night,  Philip,  I  thought  of 
something  you  said  yesterday  evening  —  that  loving 
each  other  and  loving  nature  —  do  you  remember?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  I  thought,"  she  continued,  "  that  a  man  and 
a  woman  who  do  not  love  nature  cannot  love  each 
other.  I  am  so  thankful ?-" 

I  pressed  her  to  my  bosom;  and  never  on  the  face 
of  the  earth  was  the  great  Creator  of  all  life  worshiped 
more  devotedly  than  He  was  at  that  moment. 

When  we  returned  to  the  gallery  we  found  that  Miss 
Annie  Bumpus  had  arrived. 


286  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  I  came  early,  because  I  thought  I  might  be  of 
some  service,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  how  serious  marriage 
is>  Oh,  it's  almost  dreadful  when  you  come  to  think 
of  it!" 

"  It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  marrying  some  one  you 
do  not  love,"  Luzelle  answered.  "  This  I  know  from 
experience,  and,  although  we  may,  in  an  unguarded 
moment,  have  promised  to  marry  some  one  we  do  not 
love,  yet  I  don't  think,  when  the  time  comes,  the 
true  woman  could  marry  a  man  who  has  not  completely 
won  her  heart." 

"  Oh,  Luzelle,  you  are  so  peculiar,  I'm  sure,"  Miss 
Bumpus  replied.  "  I  never  did  understand  you.  So 
different  from  all  the  other  girls  I  ever  knew.  But,  to 
me  " — here  she  sighed  deeply — "  marriage  is  awful  to 
contemplate,  even  when  it  is  arrayed  in  its  most  spot 
less  garments.  Who's  got  a  pencil — anybody?  Thank 
you,  Mr.  Henry.  Now,  give  me  a  piece  of  paper, 
please." 

A  piece  of  paper  was  given  her,  and,  placing  it  on 
the  railing  of  the  "  banisters,"  she  began  to  write, 
mumbling  "  spotless  garments"  about  the  time  she 
finished  the  performance.  "  Us  writers,  Mr.  Henry, 
as  you  doubtless  know,  as  you  are  developing  into 
quite  an  author,  must  not  let  our  good  things  escape 
us.  When  we  open  the.  cage  we  do  not  know  how 
many  of  our  birds  are  likely  to  fly  away.  Let  me 
have  that  pencil  again,  please.  Oh,  yes,"  she  said, 
when  she  had  again  written,  "  marriage  is  serious  to 
contemplate,  but  surely  no  one  would  think  so  by 
being  here  at  present." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  287 

"  And  no  one  should  think  so,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
not  a  little  vexed,  "  for  the  conditions  of  this  marriage 
are  most  happy.  My  household  will  not  in  the  least 
be  disturbed.  I  retain  my  daughter,  and  gain  a  son 
that  any  man  might  be  proud  of,  suh." 

When  the  Colonel  became  emphatic  he  always  said 
"  suh,"  regardless  of  sex. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  this  marriage  is  different,  but 
—  well,  I  suppose  I  am  a  little  peculiar.  I  don't 
believe  I  could  go  through  the  ordeal.  I  really  do 
not  believe  I  could." 

"  Captain  Jinny  will  surely  be  over,  will  he  not  ?  " 
Henry  asked. 

Miss  Bumpus  blushed,  dropped  her  fan  and  said: 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,  but  I  suppose  so.  I 
have  heard  several  people  say  that  they  were  coming 
regardless  of  invitations.  But,  of  course,  he  was  in 
vited." 

The  guests  began  to  arrive.  The  ladies,  several  of 
whom  I  had  never  seen  before,  and  two  or  three  whom 
I  remembered  as  having  been  members  of  the  "  Blue- 
Grass  Combination,"  were  shown  into  the  parlor.  Some 
ofthem,  those  who  were  well  acquainted  with  the  family, 
busied  themselves  with  running  up  and  down  stairs, 
carrying  pins  in  their  mouths  and  bundles  in  their 
hands.  Eleventh-hour  suggestions  were  made;  excla 
mations  of  "  Well,  I  declare  !  "  were  heard  throughout 
the  house.  An  old  lady  slapped  a  boy  heels  overhead 
for  kicking  off  his  shoe  into  a  bucket  of  water;  another 
boy  in  kilts  dropped  a  piece  of  bread,  blackberry- 
jammed  side  down,  on  the  floor,  and  was  imme- 


288  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

diately  snatched  off  the  face  of  the  earth  by  his  mother. 
Horses  neighed,  and  the  grating  sound  of  the  turning 
buggy  was  heard.  Another  woman  ran  up-stairs  with 
her  mouth  full  of  pins;  children  "  bawled,"  and  a  large 
dog  came  up  on  the  gallery  where  the  men  sat, 
scratched  himself  and  bumped  the  floor  with  his 
"elbow." 

Hammonds  and  Jinny  came,  and  Henry  began  at 
once  to  talk  about  something  to  eat.  Hammonds 
seized  his  whiskers,  spat  over  into  the  yard  and  was 
wiping  his  mouth  when  Jinny  cried  out,  as  if  surprised 
by  a  sudden  recollection: 

"  Eli,  if " 

Here  the  Colonel  stormed  at  the  dog,  and  began  to 
talk  loudly  of  what  he  intended  to  plant  in  different 
fields  the  next  year,  and,  seeking  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  Henry,  the  old  gentleman  said: 

"  For  the  love  of  the  Lord,  Henry,  don't  get  these 
fellows  started.  Why,  bless  me,  here  is  Major  Patter 
son!" 

The  Major  was  delighted  to  see  me,  and  shook  my 
hand  until  the  "  tobacco  spit  "  oozed  from  the  corners 
tf  his  mouth. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  he,  "how  are  you  anyhow? 
Been  lookin'  for  you  to  come  up  to  see  us,  but  I 
reckon  you  have  been  mighty  busy.  How  are  you 
anyhow?  Why,  suh,  I  met  a  feller  the  other  day  that 
thought  he  could  run  over  old  Tobias.  Yes,  suh,  he 
came  to  my  hotel  and  found  fault  with  my  wife's  cof 
fee —  she  would  have  come  with  me  to-day,  but  she's 
sorter  got  the  rheumatiz.  Yes,  suh;  said  her  coffee  — 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  289 

my  .wife's  coffee,  you  understand  —  wa'n't  nuthin'  but 
dish-water,  an'  if  thar's  anything  in  this  world  my  wife 
prides  herself  on  it  is  her  coffee.  Why,  she  never  boils 
the  grounds  more  than  twice.  Wall,  I  sorter  argued 
with  him  —  he  didn't  know  me  —  and  lo  and  behold, 
the  fust  thing  I  knowed  he  had  done  called  old  Tobias 
a  liar,  and,  bless  your  soul,  I  upped  with  an  old  yeller 
dish  that  would  weigh  about  five  pounds,  and  smashed 
it  over  his  infernal  head.  How  are  you  anyhow?  " 

Soon  after  this  the  officiating  minister,  old  Brother 
Gaines,  arrived.  He  sighed  deeply  when  I  was  intro 
duced  to  him,  and  said,  in  a  roundabout  way,  that  I 
must  not  think  that  the  world  would  always  be  so 
bright.  Having  great  reverence  for  him,  I  assured  him 
that  I  would  not,  whereupon,  much  relieved,  he  sighed 
and  took  an  enormous  chew  of  tobacco  that  made  his 
cheek  bulge  out  on  one  side  like  a  wen. 

"  All  the  children  of  men  are  disappointed  sooner 
or  later,"  said  Mr.  Gaines,  "  and  it  behooves  us  to  be 
prepared.  In  this  regard  the  high-born  and  low  are 
alike." 

"  How  are  you  getting  along  with  your  church- 
work?  "  some  one  asked. 

"  Slowly,  slowly;  but  the  warfare  goes  on,"  he  an 
swered.  "  We  have  had  five  conversions,  and  have 
repaired  one  church  this  season,  but,  if  weak  in  action, 
we  are  strong  in  hope." 

Then  followed  a  "  family  history "  conversation. 
They  all  knew,  by  intuition,  I  thought  —  for  who 
could  possess  so  accurate  a  memory? — what  had  be 
come  of  every  person  of  "  note  "  that  had  ever  lived 

19 


2QO  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

in  Kentucky;  and  often  the  most  obscure  man  was 
traced  back  to  the  Dudleys  or  Howards  or  Warringtons. 

Mrs.  Osbury  appeared  at  the  door  and  beckoned  to 
Henry.  I  was  sitting  near,  and  when  he  came  up 
I  heard  her  say: 

"  My  son,  don't  you  tantalize  Brother  Gaines.  Do 
you  understand?  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  do  anything  to  him,  mother.  If 
he  wants  to  caper  I'll  caper  with  him,  but " 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  I  don't  want  you  to 
make  fun  of  him." 

"  I  won't.  By  the  way,  how  long  before  dinner?  I 
am  as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

"  We  won't  eat  dinner  until  after  the  ceremony." 

"  How  long  before  the  ceremony?  " 

"  Not  but  a  few  minutes." 

"  Wish  you  would  call  time  on  it  now,  for  I  can't 
wait  much  longer." 

A  few  moments  later  Miss  Annie  Bumpus  called  me. 
Everybody  went  into  the  parlor,  while  Miss  Annie 
talked  to  me  in  the  hall.  I  did  not  know  what  she 
said  —  I  did  not  know  anything  except  that  I  was  to 
meet  Luzelle  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway.  Perhaps  I 
can  do  no  better  than  to  give  an  extract  from  the 
county  paper: 

"  The  bride  was  arrayed  in  a  charming  dress  of  white  organdy,  and 
was,  as  every  one  said,  perfectly  lovely.  The  bridegroom  was  dressed  in 
the  regulation  way,  and  was,  as  every  one  agreed,  a  fine  specimen  of  man 
hood.  The  contracting  parties  walked  from  the  hall  into  the  handsome 
parlor  of  the  grand  old  house,  where  were  seated  many  friends.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Gaines  performed  the  ceremony  in  his  most  impressive  manner. 
Col.  and  Mrs.  Osbury  have  the  thanks  of  the  editor  for  a  choice  cake  and  a 
bottle  of  excellent  blackberry  wine. " 


A  KENTUCKY  COL  ON  EL.  2  9 1 

I  can  scarcely  remember  any  part  of  the  ceremony. 
I  looked  at  the  preacher  and  thought  how  fortunate  it 
was  that  he  had  thrown  out  his  tobacco,  and  then,  con 
demning  myself  for  so  criminal  a  lack  of  solemnity, 
looked  down;  but  through  it  all  there  was  a  nervous 
gladness.  Luzelle's  hand  trembled.  She  was  my 
wife. 

Then  I  shook  hands  with  people  whose  hands  I  had 
never  shaken  hefore,  and  whose  hands  I  shall  doubtless 
never  shake  again.  There  appears  to  be  a  set  of  wed 
ding  hands  that  reach  out  from  the  corners  of  non- 
acquaintance  and  which  soon  disappear,  never  to  be 
grasped  again. 

The  dinner  was  easy  and  informal,  but  I  could  not 
taste  anything.  I  scalded  my  mouth  with  coffee, 
thinking  that  I  was  drinking  milk.  Many  jokes  were 
told,  and  there  was  great  laughter,  and  I  joined  in,  yet 
I  heard  none  of  the  jokes.  I  think  that  I  heard  Jinny 
say  something  about  Norfolk,  and  just  at  this  time  I 
believe  that  I  heard  the  Colonel  laugh  uproariously  at 
some  remark  which  Major  Patterson  had  made.  Some 
body  said  that  it  was  time  to  go  if  we  wanted  to  leave 
on  the  four  o'clock  train  for  Louisville.  The  carriage 
was  ready.  Mrs.  Osbury  and  Luzelle  were  in  tears. 
We  drove  away. 

"  How  strange  it  all  is,"  said  Luzelle.  "  How 
tremblingly  happy  I  am.  Are  you  happy,  Philip?  " 

"  Yes;  so  perfectly  and  so  strangely  happy  that  I 
dare  not  attempt  to  express  it. " 

Those  were  sweet,  enchanted  days. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SETTLING   DOWN. 

WE  returned  after  an  absence  of  four  weeks,  when 
the  season  was  in  its  mood  of  richest  decoration.  The 
long,  drooping  blue-grass  covered  the  "  worm-rail "  of 
the  fence,  and  the  "  jimson  "  weed,  back  of  the  stable, 
was  in  bloom.  Fred  had  come  home  —  had  arrived 
the  day  after  the  wedding.  His  face  bore  no  mark  of 
sorrow,  and  in  his  eyes  there  were  no  traces  of  that 
melancholy  stare  into  miserable  vacancy,  that  misery- 
proclaiming  gaze  prompted  by  a  breaking  heart.  With 
him,  despair  was  ever  "  dove-tailed  into  hope." 

"  Oh,  t  am  so  thankful  to  have  you  all  back  again," 
said  Mrs.  Osbury  when  we  had  sat  down  to  supper. 
We  had  spent  several  hours  in  a  sort  of  chaotic  con 
versation  made  up  of  exclamations  —  that  sort  of  con 
versation  during  which  nothing  is  finished,  and  when 
one  remark  is  sure  to  break  into  another. 

"  Yes,"  the  Colonel  answered,  "  everything  is  all 
right.  Buck,  you'll  have  tomatoes  pretty  soon,  won't 
you?" 

"  Y— y— yes,  a  few.  Don't  appear  to  be  doin'  very 
well." 

"  I  thought  they  did.  The  green  ones  look  remark 
ably  fine." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  293 

"  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  don't  worry 
him." 

"  Why,  I'm  not  worrying  him.  Merely  asking  after 
his  crop.  Always  interested  in  a  man's  prosperity, 
you  know.  Phil,  to-morrow  morning  you  may  take 
formal  possession  of  the  farm,  and  I  want  you  to  run 
it  exactly  to  suit  yourself." 

"  And  am  I  to  take  possession  of  the  household?" 
Luzelle  asked. 

Mrs.  Osbury  moved  uneasily.  "  No,  not  yet,"  she 
said.  "  You  are  very  young,  my  daughter,  and  I'm 
not  very  old." 

The  Colonel  laughed.  "  I  tell  you  what,"  said  he; 
"  you  are  asking  a  queen  to  give  up  her  throne  when 
you  ask  a  Kentucky  wife  to  surrender  her  keys. " 

"  Well,  Remington,  you  know  I'm  not  too  old  to 
take  care  of  the  house." 

"  Of  course  not." 

"I  was  merely  joking,  mother,"  said  Luzelle.  "1 
would  rather  be  under  your  authority  than  to  be  mis 
tress  of  the  finest  house  in  the  country." 

"  Giving  up  and  folding  my  hands,  Luzelle,"  Mrs. 
Osbury  replied,  "  is  something  I  could  not  think  of. 
Fred,  what  are  you  going  to  do  —  work  orithe  farm?  " 

"  Well,  some,  I  reckon, "he  answered.  "  But  as  long 
as  there  are  plenty  of  hands  to  do  the  work,  I  don't  see 
that  it  is  necessary." 

"  So  you  like  the  looks  of  the  book,  Phil?  "  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  Very  much." 

"  It's  beautiful,  I  think.      I  sent  copies  to  the  list  of 


294  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

papers  you  gave  me,  and  have  received  several  papers 
containing  notices,  I  reckon,  but  I  haven't  opened 
them.  Going  to  keep  them,  you  know,  until  we  get 
enough  for  a  regular  love-feast.  Well,  suh,  those  in 
fernal  newsdealers  and  booksellers  in  Louisville  don't 
want  to  handle  it.  I  called  on  them,  and  they  told  me 
they  got  all  the  books  they  wanted  from  head 
quarters,  whatever  they  may  mean  by  that;  but  I  suc 
ceeded  in  persuading  a  number  of  them.  You  say 
you  like  New  Orleans?  " 

"  It  is  a  quaint  and  interesting  city." 

"  I  don't  care  much  for  it,"  he  rejoined.  "  I  am 
used  to  hearing  negroes  talk  English,  and,  suh,  when 
they  begin  to  jabber  in  French,  why,  that  settles  it 
with  me.  Don't  want  to  live  in  a  town  where  the 
negroes  can't  talk  as  they  should. " 

"  Out  in  some  of  the  plr.ces  where  I've  been,"  Fred 
remarked,  "  they  talk  Spanish." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  any  of  them  to  come  talking 
Spanish  to  me,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  English  is  good 
enough  for  me.  It  was  good  enough  for  old  Andrew 
Jackson  and  the  men  who  planted  this  government, 
suh,  and  I  don't  believe  in  scattering  foreign  jabber 
among  the  people." 

"  You  let  Luzelle  study  French,"  Fred  struck  in. 

"  Well,  she  didn't  get  enough  to  hurt.  You  never 
hear  her  trying  to  talk  it,  anyway.  Phil,  do  you  think 
you'll  like  farming?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  that  I  am  fitted  for  it." 

"  Like  to  see  things  grow,  eh?" 

4  *  Yes,  sir." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


295 


"  Then  farming  is  your  strong  holt." 

Luzelle  and  I  sat  on  the  bench  under  the  lilacs. 
Evening's  insects  had  begun  their  hum.  A  quail  sat 
on  the  fence  and  called  her  mate  ;  a  toad  hopped 
down  the  path. 

"  Philip,  you  could  never  be  untrue  to  me,  could 
you?  " 

"  Never,  Luzelle." 

"  No  matter  what  your  former  life  has  been,"  she 
said,  "  you " 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  dear,  that  I  have  never  loved 
any  one  else?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  men — men— " 

"  Well. " 

"  Philip,  my  life  has  been  absolutely  pure  and " 

"  I  know  that,  Luzelle. " 

"  Wait,  and  let  me  finish.  Let  me  put  it  differently 
—  let  me  be  less  personal.  A  woman's  life  has  been 
pure.  She  marries  a  man  who  has  looked  upon  the 
corrupting  side  of  life.  She  knows,  being  a  sensible 
woman,  that  his  life  has  not  been  free  from  a  contami 
nating  touch,  but  when  she  marries  him,  she  expects 
him,  demands  of  him  to  be,  thenceforth,  just  as  pure  as 
she  is." 

"  Luzelle,  no  power  on  earth  could  draw  me  away 
from  you." 

"  There  now,"  she  said,  putting  her  arms  around  my 
neck,  "  let  us  not  talk  this  way  again.  My  reading, 
Philip,  has  not  exactly  made  me  suspicious,  but  perhaps 
has  given  me  an  insight  into  something  that  should 
have  remained  hidden." 


296  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  Your  reading  has  not  hurt  you,  Luzelle.  Mysteries 
are  often  harmful  where  knowledge  is  productive  of 
good." 

"  I  suppose  so;  but,  Philip,  if  you  were  to  be  untrue 
to  me,  even  in  thought,  I  believe  that  something  awful 
would  happen  to  you,  for  I  love  you  so  truly,  so 
devotedly,  that " 

"  Don't  think  of  such  a  possibility,  Luzelle,  for  my 
devotion  could  permit  of  no  infidelity  even  in  thought. " 

The  next  day  I  took  charge  of  the  farm.  Gap  came 
to  me  with  many  congratulatory  motions,  and  declared 
that  he  was  delighted. 

"  The  Colonel  ain't  had  much  time  ter  ten'  ter  things," 
said  he,  "  an'  it  'peared  like  ever'body  done  putty 
much  ez  they  pleased.  I  don't  like  ter  see  things  go 
on  thater  way.  I'd  much  ruther  work  fur  wages  than 
a  part  of  the  crap  —  an' — an'  —  I  did  'low  that  lam 
wuth  mo'n  I'm  gettin.'  Me  an'  you  ken  git  along  all 
right.  Yes,  I  fou't  that  mob,  but  I  ain't  goin'  ter  say 
nothin'  about  that.  Kaint  you  gimme  jest  a  leetle  mo* 
wages,  Mr.  Burwood  ?  " 

I  was  determined  to  be  just  to  the  Colonel   rather 
than  indiscreetly  generous  to  Mr.  Gap. 

"  When  you  earn  more  money  you  shall  have  it,"  I 
answered,  "  but  unless  you  improve  I  don't  want  you 
at  all." 

"  Wouldn't  turn  a  man  outen  house  an'  home,  would 
you?" 

II  Yes,  unless  he  does  his  duty." 

"  Dat's  de  way  ter  talk,"  said  Isom,  coming  into  the 
barn  where  Gap  and  I  were  standing.  "  Dat's  de  way 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


297 


fur  ter  gib  out  de  psalm  fur  ter  be  sung.  I  likes 
er  boss  dat  turns  on  de  screws.  I  doan'  wanter  see  no 
trifleness  'bout  me,  I  ken  tell  you  dat.  When  I  fust 
made  up  my  mine  dat  you  wuz  gwine  marry  Miss 
Luzelle  I  says  ter  Aunt  Silvy,  I  did:  'Silvy,'  s'l,  'dat 
white  man  gwine  make  things  walk  de  chalk  line  sho's 
you  bawn.'  Dat's  whut  I  'lowed,  dem  ver'  words.  I 
ain't  gwine  ter  ax  fur  no  mo'  wages,  but  is  gwine  ter 
work  like  a  whitehead,  an'  I  'low  datfo'  long  you  gwine 
call  me.  You  gwine  say:  'Isom!'  'Yas,  sah,'  s'l. 
Tse  noticed  fur  some  time  dat  you'se  been  doin' yo' 
work  powerful  well.'  '  Yas,  sah,'  s'l.  '  You  does  mo' 
work  den  any  two  men  on  de  place,  an'  yere,  jes  hoi' 
my  hat  till  I  raise  yo'  wages  right  now  on  de  book.' 
Wall,  I  got  ter  go  now  an'  turn  ober  some  dirt." 

"  Brother  Phil,"  Fred  remarked,  meeting  me  as  I 
turned  away,  "  I  am  half  a  mind  to  go  to  work  on  the 
farm.  I  believe  I  can  go  out  there  and  make  those 
fellers  hump  themselves.  What  do  you  say?  " 

"  Go  ahead." 

"  Hanged  if  I  don't  do  it.  I've  been  foolin'  round 
long  enough.  Oh,  I  ain't  afraid  of  work.  There  is 
one  thing,  though;  I  don't  want  my  colt  to  do  any 
work." 

"  Is  he  any  better  than  you  are,  Fred?" 

"  Well,  not  exactly  that,  but  I  couldn't  bear  to  see 
him  pullin'  a  plow.  I  shouldn't  think  you  would  either 
after  he  galloped  you  away  from  danger. " 

"  We  don't  need  him,  Fred." 

"  All  right,  but  I'm  goin'  to  get  down  to  it.  To 
morrow  morning,  bright  and  early,  you'll  see  me  out 


298  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

there  plowin'.  Boyd  Savely  used  to  work.  Nothin* 
lazy  about  him.  Wonder  where  he  is." 

"No  telling." 

"  Wonder  if  he'd  raise  a  row  if  he  was  to  come 
back?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  it  wouldn't  do  him  any  good,  if  he  did. 
Which  way  you  goin'?  " 

"  Over  to  the  left-hand  field. " 

"  What  are  you  goin'  to  plant  there?" 

"Corn." 

"  That's  good  —  fine  land  as  you  ever  saw.  What 
are  you  goin'  to. do  with  the  old  orchard?  " 

"  Trim  it  up  and  cut  down  the  briars.  It  is  good 
for  many  years  yet." 

"  When  I  saw  the  men  grubbing  around  there  just 
now  I  was  afraid  you  were  goin'  to  plow  it  up.  I 
wouldn't  like  to  see  that  grass  destroyed.  Some  of  the 
happiest  moments  of  my  life  was  when  Luzelle  and  I 
used  to  go  there  early  in  the  mornin'  and  hunt  for 
horse-apples  in  the  dew." 

Several  days  later,  while  I  was  standing  near  the 
corn-crib,  Uncle  Buck  came  out  from  his  flute  rehearsal. 

"  Phil,"  said  he,  "  I  see  you  air  gettin'  everything 
down  to  a  fine  point." 

"  Yes,  everything  is  working  very  smoothly." 

"  Fred  is  humpin'  himself.  I  didn't  know  the  boy 
had  that  much  stir  to  him.  I  tell  you  what's  a  fack, 
that  young  co'n  over  next  to  the  woods  needs  hoein' 
powerful  bad." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


299 


"  I  noticed  it,  and  shall  have  it  attended  to  as  soon 
as  the  hoe  hands  finish  replanting." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  thought,  Phil:  I  thought  I'd 
pitch  into  it  to-morrow  mornin'.  I  jest  nachully  can't 
bear  to  see  anything  sufferin'  for  work.  I'll  go  in  there 
in  the  mornin',  suh,  an'  make  things  fairly  hum." 

"  All  right,  Uncle  Buck,  help  yourself. " 

"  Oh,  I'll  do  it;  as  shore  as  you're  born,  I  will. 
When  I  set  my  head,  something's  got  to  happen." 

He  turned  away,  and  the  energy  imparted  by  hia 
determination  was  reflected  in  his  increased  briskness 
of  movement.  The  next  morning  he  got  up  before 
daylight  and  began  to  "  fuss  about "  and  grumble 
because  breakfast  was  not  ready. 

"What's  the  matter,  Buck?"  the  Colonel  asked, 
coming  out  into  the  hall,  where  the  old  fellow  was 
parading  his  vexation. 

"  What's  the  matter!  "  he  exclaimed,  staring  in  aston 
ishment  at  the  Colonel.  "  My  gracious  alive,  the  grass 
and  weeds  air  chokin'  the  life  outen  that  co'n,  an'  you 
stand  there  and  ask  me  what's  the  matter!  Here  I've 
been  up  two  hours  and  can't  git  a  bite  to  eat.  Every 
body  sleepin'  jest  like  there  wa'n't  no  work  to  be  done. 
It's  a  shame,  Phil.  How  do  they  expect  us  to  make  a 
crop  when  they  won't  give  us  anything  to  eat.  How 
do  they  expect  me  to  hoe  that  co'n " 

"  Do  what!  "  the  Colonel  exclaimed,  slyly  winking 
at  me. 

"  Hoe  that  co'n.     That's  what  I  said." 

"  And  is  that  why  you  got  up  so  early?" 

"Of  course  it  is." 


300  A   KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  but  that  you  got 
up  to  go  down  to  the  bluff — thought  that  you  wanted 
an  early  start,  you  know." 

"  Down  to  the  bluff!  What  in  the  deuce  do  I  want 
to  go  down  there  for,  Remington?" 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you  had  taken  another  notion  to 
jump  off." 

"  Oh,  you  be  blowed  now,  Remington.  Confound 
the  luck,  a  man  can't  do  anything  without  you  makin' 
fun  of  him;  never  saw  the  like  in  my  life.  Enough  to 
make  a  man  butt  his  head  against  the  wall. " 

"  Remington,"  Mrs.  Osbury  called. 

"Well." 

"  Let  him  alone,  now." 

"  I'm  not  doing  anything." 

"  Come  on  in,  then,  and  let  him  alone.  But  before 
you  come  I  wish  you'd  step  out  and  see  if  I  forgot  to 
lock  the  smoke-house  last  night." 

"  If  you  forgot  to  lock  it  last  night  what  difference 
does  it  make  now?" 

"  Well,  never  mind,  then.  Wish  you'd  look  out  and 
see  if  the  dominecker  hen  roosted  in  the  locust  tree." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  that?" 

"  Because  I  couldn't  drive  her  into  the  hen-house 
yesterday  evening,  and  if  she  ain't  in  the  locust  tree 
something  must  have  caught  her." 

Immediately  after  breakfast  Uncle  Buck  shouldered 
a  hoe  and  marched  out  to  the  field.  He  wore  a  broad 
brim  straw  hat  and  a  pair  of  "  brogan  "  shoes.  He 
yelled  to  the  plow-hands,  telling  them  to  "  hurry  up." 
and  shouted  fragments  of  instruction  to  the  negro 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


women  who  were  replanting  corn.  The  day  was  hot 
with  an  intensity  that  promised  rain,  and  the  air  was 
so  still  that  the  leaves  on  the  morning-glory  vines  were 
motionless. 

I  went  over  to  the  field  about  eleven  o'clock,  but 
did  not  see  Uncle  Buck  as  I  approached.  He  had 
hoed  two  short  rows  and  had  chopped  down  a  bunch 
of  weeds  that  grew  near  an  old  stump.  I  strolled 
into  the  woods,  and  there,  under  a  tree,  sat  the  old 
man  fast  asleep.  His  hat  lay  on  the  ground  beside 
him,  and  he  had  leaned  his  hoe  against  a  tree.  I 
approached  softly,  took  the  hoe,  and  hid  it  in  a  hollow 
log.  Then  I  went  further  into  the  woods,  and,  pre 
tending  to  call  a  dog,  awoke  the  old  man. 

"  How  are  you  getting  along,  Uncle  Buck?  "  I  asked, 
approaching  him.  He  was  standing  under  the  tree, 
fanning  himself  with  his  hat. 

"  Fust-rate,  Phil;  fust-rate." 

"  Pretty  warm  over  there  in  the  field,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Mighty  hot,  I  tell  you,  but  I'll  soon  get  used  to  ft. 
I  stepped  over  here  just  now  to  cool  off  a  little.  I  tell 
you  what's  a  fack,  young  men  these  days  don't  know 
what  work  is.  Has  the  dinner-horn  bio  wed  yet?  "  he 
asked,  glancing  at  the  sun. 

"Not  yet." 

"  Well,  it's  time,  I  can  tell  you  that.  What  the 
deuce  became  of  my  hoe?" 

"  Did  you  bring  a  hoe  with  you?" 

"  Now,  Phil,  that's  mean.  Bring  a  hoe  with  me) 
Why,  blame  my  skin,  I  have  been  workin'  fit  to  kiU 
myself.  What  the  mischief  became  of  that  hos?  ** 


302 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  Is  this  it?"  I  asked,  stepping  up  to  the  log  and 
taking  the  hoe  out. 

"  That's  all  right  now,  Phil.  You  can't  come  any 
of  your  tricks  on  me.  I  saw  you  put  it  in  there.  You 
thought  I  was  asleep,  but  I  was  never  wider  awake. 
I  was  sittin'  there  thinkin'  about  that  co'n.  Wall,  I 
reckon  dinner  will  be  ready  by  the  time  we  get  to  the 
house." 

While  we  were  crossing  the  field  the  old  man  said: 
"  Phil,  I  am  goin'  up  to  town  to-morrow,  and  the 
next  day  I'll  pitch  in  and  finish  that   co'n.     You'd 
better  let  me  have  about  five  dollars,  I  reckon." 
"  All  right;   when  we  get  to  the  house." 
"  But  don't  say  anything  to  Remington  about  it.    He 
don't  believe  —  wall,    he  don't  understand  me,  that's 
all;  he  jest  nachully  don't  understand  me." 

We  had  received  quite  a  number  of  newspapers  con 
taining  "  reviews  "  of  the  history,  and  following  the 
Colonel's  instructions,  I  had  put  the  papers  aside 
—  had,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  saved  them  up  for  a  love 
feast." 

"  Phil,"  the  old  gentleman  remarked,  one  morning, 
M  get  out  your  papers,  and  we'll  read  them.  I  have 
been  mightily  tempted  to  read  some  of  the  reviews, 
but  I  held  myself  back.  Now,  suh,  we'll  go  in  and 
enjoy  ourselves." 

The  thought  that  any  one  could  speak  harshly  of  the 
book  had  not  occurred  to  the  Colonel,  and  when  I  hinted 
that  we  might  expect  severe  criticism,  he  replied  that 
the  books  were  sent  out  as  presents,  and  that  no  gentle- 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 


303 


man  would  criticise  a  present.     I  *.vd  read  tke  reviews 

and  had  divided  them  into  two  classes 

"  We  don't  want  anybody  in  the  library,"  said  he. 
"  We  want  to  shut  ourselves  up*  We  want  to  be 
praised,  but  we  don't  want  even  our  most  intimate 
associates  to  know  that  we  are  fond  of  it." 

No  boy,  in  the  expectation  of  a  fairy  story,  could 
have  shown  more  interest  than  the  Colonel  exhibited. 
He  sat  on  the  sofa,  leaning  forward  with  one  hand  be 
hind  his  ear,  as  though  he  were  afraid  that  a  syllable 
might  stray  off  and  be  lost. 

"  This  is  the  Philadelphia  Moon. " 

"  All  right;  let  us  have  it." 

I  read  as  follows:  "  We  have  received  a  pretentious 
volume,  entitled  'The  History  of  Shellcut  County"*— 

"  Pretentious!     Does  it  say  pretentious,  Phil  ?" 

"  Yes,  that's  what  it  says." 

"  Well,  now,  the  book  is  not  pretentious.  That  fel 
low  is  an  ungrateful  fool.  Go  ahead." 

"  '  History  of  Shellcut  County/written  by  a  '  begad, 
sah,'  Kentuckian  named  Osbury.  Why  he  calls  it  a 
history  we  are  unable  to  discover.  It  is  a  collection  of 
poorly  written  sketches,  pretending  to  be  humorous 
and  pathetic,  and,  together  with  other  faults,  many  of 
the  anecdotes  are  moldy  with  age.  The  author  evi 
dently  prides  himself  upon  the  literary  work  of  the 
preface,  and  will,  no  doubt,  be  surprised  to  learn  that  it 
is  a  weak  and  vainglorious  performance.  We  do  not 
know  why  such  a  book  was  written,  and  we  do  not  see 
why  any  one  should  read  it." 

The  Colonel  had  bounded  from  the  sofa  and  wa* 


^  KENTUCKY  COLOtfML, 

walking  up  and  down  the  room.  I  have  never  seen  a 
completer  picture  of  suppressed  rage.  Some  time 
elapsed  before  he  could  speak. 

"  I  wish  I  had  that  infernal  scoundrel  by  the  throat. 
Why,  the  miserable  wretch  ain't  fit  to  live.  Never 
mind,  I'll  write  him  a  letter  that  will  raise  blisters  all 
over  him  —  the  contemptible  whelp.  Read  the  next 
one." 

"  This  is  the  Boston  Sage." 

"  Go  ahead." 

"  We  have  discovered,  by  a  book  which  has  just 
reached  us,  that  Shellcut  County  is  the  great  joke 
fountain  of  America — — " 

"  That  isn't  bad,  Phil. " 

"  At  least,"  I  continued  to  read,  °  the  author  evi 
dently  thinks  so." 

"  I  don't  do  any  such  of  an  infernal  thing,  That  fel 
low's  a  fool." 

"  He  has  given  us  four  hundred  and  fifty  pages  of 
dry  rot  which  he  calls  a  history  of  Shellcut  County. 
It  is  the  poorest  work  of  a  frost-bitten  humorist.  The 
compositors  who  put  it  in  type  and  the  men  who  read 
the  proof  have  our  sympathy." 

"  D d  scoundrel!  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  walk 
ing  up  and  down  the  room,  striking  his  fists  together, 
"  I  could  whittle  on  his  liver  and  thank  God  for  the 
Opportunity.  Read  the  next  one,  suh." 

"  Here  we  have  the  New  York  Evening  Gossip," 

"  Go  ahead  with  it." 

"  We  do  riot  wonder  at  bloodshed  in  Kentucky  when 
such  books  as  'The  History  of  Shellcut  County '  are 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


305 


sprung  upon  the  people  of  that  State;  indeed,  we 
would  rather  commend  the  shooting  of  one  Osbury, 
who " 

"  Give  me  that  infernal  sheet!  " 

The  old  man  snatched  the  paper,  tore  it  to  pieces, 
threw  it  on  the  floor  and  stamped  on  it. 

"  I  wish  to  God,  Phil,  we  hadn't  written  the  infernal 
thing.  Read  another  one.  I  am  prepared  for  any 
thing,  now." 

"  This  is  the  New  York  Universe  " 

"  Go  ahead." 

"'The  History  of  Shellcut  County/  written  by 
Remington  Osbury,  is  one  of  the  most  amusing  books 
that  has,  for  many  a  day,  reached  our  table.  It  is 
full  of  the  richest  of  anecdotes,  softened  with  ^true 
pathos,  and  is,  throughout,  gracefully  written.  The 
author  has  a  happy  knack  of  terse  expression,  and  an 
admirable  skill  in  character-drawing.  The  book  is 
well  worth  reading." 

"  By  George,  suh,  there  is  a  sensible  man  and  a  true 
gentleman!  "the  Colonel  delightedly  exclaimed.  "  Read 
that  again." 

I  did  so.  "  That  man  knows  what  he  is  talking  about, 
suh;  he's  a  gentleman.  Oh,  we're  coming  out  on  top. 
Go  ahead." 

I  then  read  the  following  from  the  Chicago  Prairie: 

"  t  The  History  of  Shellcut  County,'  by  Remington 
Osbury,  of  Kentucky,  is  one  of  the  most  delightful 
books  we  have  ever  read.  The  author  is  a  scholar, 
and  is,  we  can  see,  a  most  genial  and  kind-hearted 
gentleman, " 

20 


306 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  Good!  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel.  "  There's  one  of 
nature's  noblemen,  suh.  Phil,  by  George,  we'll  write 
a  book  every  year.  I  tell  you,  this  country  is  waking 
up  to  the  necessity  of  good,  strong  American  work. 
We  have  stuffed  ourselves  with  English  books  long 
enough — we've  had  enough  foreign  plum-pudding,  and 
what  the  people  need  now  is  the  hog  and  hominy  of 
America.  We'll  give  it  to  them.  We'll  write  a  book 
every  year,  suh." 

There  remained  not  a  trace  of  his  anger;  he  was  a 
joyous  and  lovable  old  man. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

UNCLE   BUCK'S   PISTOL. 

AT  last  I  had  found  the  work  for  which  I  was  best 
fitted.  Every  detail  of  my  employment  was  a  pleas 
ure.  Hitherto  every  undertaking  had  been  beset  with 
anxiety;  the  fear  of  failure  had  turned  the  edge  of 
pleasure,  but  now  there  was  no  fear,  for  each  day  I 
could  see  the  approaching  fulfillment  of  nature's  gener 
ous  promise.  The  ripening  wheat  and  the  heading 
oats,  the  young  corn  and  the  clover-land  overspread 
with  a  rich  mantle  of  purplish  green  —  each  held  a 
sweet  pleasure  for  me.  At  morning,  when  the  spider- 
webs,  dew-jeweled,  caught  the  image  of  the  sun,  and 
at  evening,  when  bull-bats  bellowed  in  the  fading  light, 
Luzelle  would  come  out  to  the  field.  Sometimes  she 
would  gather  wild  flowers  and  decorate  me  until  I 
must  have  resembled  a  barbaric  chief;  and  sometimes 
at  noon  she  would  hitch  old  Tom  to  the  buggy,  and, 
bringing  a  luncheon,  would  drive  round  into  the 
woods.  What  picnics  of  enjoyment!  What  a  bill  of 
fare!  One  day,  while  we  were  eating,  Isom  came  up 
to  the  fence,  and,  standing  with  his  arms  resting  on 
the  top  rail,  regarded  us  with  keen  interest. 

"  Dat's  de  way  I  likes  ter  see  white  folks  ack,"  said 
he.  "  Yas,  it  is,  Mr.  Phil;  yas,  it  is,  sah.  When  white 
folks  spreads  er  table  clof  down  on  de  grass  an*  sets 
down  dater  way  an'  eats,  w'y,  it's  den  time  fur  me  ter 


308 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


say  dat's  de  way  ter  ack.  An'  dat's  de  way  ter  cut 
pound-cake,  too  —  in  big  pieces.  Dar  ain't  nuthin'  I 
hates  ter  see  wust  den  little  pieces  o'  cake,  caze  I  argys 
dat  ef  a  man  gwine  ter  feed  de  chickens,  let  him  feed 
de  chickens,  but  ef  he  gwine  ter  feed  folks,  w'y,  den, 
let  him  feed  folks.  But  I  ain't  no  cake-eater,  merse'f. " 

"  Don't  like  it,  eh?" 

"  Wall,  dat  derpen's,  sah.  Ef  I  knows  who  makes 
de  cake  an'  has  conferdence  in  de  pusson,  w'y,  den  I'll 
eat  it,  but  I  haster  hab  conferdence,  sah.  Now,  dar's 
Aunt  Judy  Smif.  She  makes  ez  nice-lookin'  cake  ez 
anybody  you  ever  seed,  an'  she's  allus  atter  me  ter  eat 
some  o'  it,  but  s'l,  '  Aunt  Judy,  you's  er  'ligious  lady 
an'  all  dat,  but  I  ain't  got  ernuff  conferdence  in  yer  ter 
eat  yo'  cake.'  Dat's  de  way  I  talks  ter  her.  But  one 
time  she  got  me,  sah,  she  did." 

"  How?"  I  asked. 

"  Wall,  it  wuz  dis  way.  I  wuz  ober  ter  her  house 
one  mawnin'  an'  she  had  er  cake  on  de  table,  cut  up  in 
pieces  'bout  like  dem  ober  dar  now.  Sez  she,  '  Isom, 
won't  you  hab  some  dis  yere  monstrous  fine  cake? ' 
'  No,  lady,'  s'l,  '  ain't  I  dun  tole  you  dat  I'se  got  no 
conferdence  in  you  an*  all  dat?  Does  you  want  me 
ter  keep  'peatin'  myse'f  ? '  Den  she  say,  '  I  didn't  make 
dis.  Miss  Luzelle  made  it.'  '  Gimme,' s'l,  'gimme,' 
an',  I  tell  you  what,  ef  dat  cake  didn't  fly." 

"  Come  and  help  yourself,  Isom,"  Luzelle  said. 

He  cleared  the  fence  at  a  bound,  and  cleared  the 
cloth  at  a  sweep.  Then  he  climbed  upon  the  fence. 

"  So  you  don't  like  Aunt  Judy's  cake,"  Luzelle  re 
marked. 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  309 

"  Nome,  I  ain't  got  no  conferdence  in  her." 

"  Well,  she  made  the  cake  you  are  eating. " 

"  Dat  er  fack?  Wall,  mum,  Fs  done  gone  too  fur 
now  ter  stop.  Mighty  sorry,  but  I  kain't  he'p  it." 

Uncle  Buck  did  not  renew  his  engagement  with  the 
corn.  He  had  gone  to  town  with  the  five  dollars  which 
he  had  "  earned,"  had  met  a  number  of  Mexican  war 
veterans,  and  had,  in  an  almost  speechless  condition, 
returned  with  his  pockets  turned  out.  He  did  not 
blow  his  flute  the  next  morning.  I  saw  him  leaning 
against  the  corn-crib,  and  I  heard  him  say,  "  Ah-h-h. 
Lord!"  When  he  returned  to  the  house  the  Colonel 
asked  him  if  he  were  coming  in  to  breakfast. 

"  No,  b'lieve  not." 

"  Not  sick,  are  you?" 

"Who  the  deuce  said  I  was  sick!"  he  exclaimed. 
•'  Man  refuses  to  gorge  himself,  and  you  begin  to  throw 
out  your  insinuations. " 

"  Why,  Buck,  I  haven't " 

"  Yes,  you  have,  Remington.  Man,  after  workin' 
like  a  dog,  can't  go  away  for  a  few  hours'  rest  but  you 
have  to  insinuate." 

"  I  haven't  insinuated  anything.  I  merely  asked  It 
you  were  going  to  eat  breakfast." 

"  I  understand  you,  Remington.  You  can't  fool  me. 
You  meant  that  I  got  full  yesterday;  that's  what  you 
meant;  but  I  want  you  to  understand  that  I  didn't.  I 
met  some  of  my  old  friends,  but  I  didn't  drink  anything 
but  lemon  —  lem  —  lem " 

He  wheeled  about  and  struck  a  trot.     Shortly  after- 


3IO  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

ward,  when  we  heard  him  whooping  behind  the  smoke 
house,  the  Colonel  remarked: 

"  I  know  exactly  how  he  feels,  and  I  sympathize  with 
him,  but  can't  help  him." 

Uncle  Buck  came  back.  "  Phil,"  said  he,  "  I  heard 
something  yesterday  that  may  interest  you." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  The  authorities  have  agreed  to  let  Boyd  Savely 
come  back." 

"  What!"  the  Colonel  exclaimed. 

"  Agreed  to  let  him  come  back,"  Buck  repeated. 
"  If  he  wants  anything,  Phil,  why,  I've  got  a  dueling- 
pistol  that " 

"  Buck,  "said  the  Colonel,  "  for  the  Lord's  sake  hush 
about  that  dueling-pistol.  In  the  first  place,  I  don't 
believe  you've  got  one." 

"  Remington,  do  you  want  to  insult  me?" 

"  No,  assuredly  not,  but  where  is  the  pistol?  Bring 
it  out  —  let  me  see  it." 

"  No,  sun,  I  won't  do  it  now. "  He  turned  away,  and 
the  Colonel,  addressing  me,  said: 

"  He  hasn't  any  pistol.  I  have  heard  him  talk 
about  it  for  the  last  fifteen  years,  but  I  have  never 
set  eyes  on  it.  Phil,  if  that  fellow  comes  back  and 
tries  to  raise  a  row,  the  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  get  a 
shot-gun — hush!  here  comes  Luzelle." 

"  Philip,"  she  said,  "  I  am  going  out  to  the  field 
with  you  this  morning  and  look  for  a  new  picnic  place. 
We  will  go  over  to  the  creek  at  noon-time  and  sit 
under  the  hornbeam  trees." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HAD     FOUND    A    HOME. 

"  WHAT  a  contrast,"  I  mused  one  morning  as  I  drove 
toward  town,  "between  this  and  one  night  when  I  passed 
along  here."  Then  I  was  worn  out  in  body  and 
wretched  in  spirit,  hunted  by  desperate  men,  and 
thrilled  by  every  noise.  Then  the  lightning's  glare  gave 
me  startled  glimpses  of  November's  dead  and  whirling 
leaves;  now  the  landscape  wore  a  peaceful  smile,  and 
the  ridge-spurs,  over  which  the  thunder  had  seemed  to 
roll,  were  now,  under  their  bloom-adornment,  wrought, 
by  pleasing  fancy,  into  the  decorated  graves  of  great 
giants  that  had  fallen  in  a  mighty  war. 

The  song  of  the  plow-boy  and  the  sweetly-sad  notes 
of  the  rain-crow  mingled,  and  together  floated  away 
on  the  perfumed  air;  and  the  blooded  colts  in  the  past 
ure,  with  June-lighted  mischief  in  their  eyes,  threw 
up  their  heads,  snorted  a  pretentious  defiance,  kicked 
up  their  heels  and  scampered  over  the  tufted  knoll. 

I  found  Henry  in  his  office.  He  did  not  hear  me  as 
I  approached  the  door,  and  I  stood  for  a  moment  look 
ing  at  him  as  he  sat  writing  with  a  quill.  He  was 
smoking  vigorously,  and  his  chair  was  surrounded  by 
half-burnt  matches.  No  room  could  have  been  more 
disorderly.  A  box  of  sawdust,  containing  many  a  quid 
of  tobacco,  thrown  there  by  the  village  liar,  the  old 
man  who  always  predicted  rain,  and  the  rakish  country 


312  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

buck  who  would  not  "  swap  "  his  "  hoss  "  for  "  nary 
hoss  in  Kentucky,  suh,"  occupied  a  place  in  the  center 
of  the  room. 

"  Good  morning." 

"  Why,  helloa,  Phil!"  he  exclaimed,  springing  from 
his  chair.  "  Come  right  into  the  ogre's  den.  Sit 
down,  old  man.  Take  this  chair.  That  one  has  a 
habit  of  spilling  people  who  don't  know  the  combina 
tion.  How  are  all  the  folks?  " 

"All  well." 

"  How  is  your  crop?  " 

"Couldn't  be  better." 

"  Like  farming,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  especially  as  I  am  better  fitted  for  it  than 
for  anything  else." 

"  Here," — shoving  a  box  toward  me, —  "fill  up  a 
pipe.  I'd  like  farming,  too,  but  —  well,  I  believe  it 
requires  more  judgment  than  I  usually  carry  about  me. 
Uncle  Buck  tells  me  that  he  has  gone  to  work  in 
earnest." 

"  Yes,  he  hoed  several  short  rows  of  corn." 

"  Good.  When  he  was  in  town  some  time  ago  he 
steered  clear  of  me  until  rather  late.  Then  he  came 
round  and  told  me  that  if  I  would  let  him  have  five 
dollars  I  need  not  give  him  that  meerschaum  pipe.  I 
had  no  pipe  —  had  been  merely  joking  with  him,  and 
told  him  so.  You  should  have  heard  him  rave.  He 
swore  that  the  whole  duty  of  mankind  was  to  deceive 
him;  but  when  I  gave  him  five  dollars,  he  smiled 
blandly,  and  declared  that  he  had  always  known  I 
would  amount  to  something,  and  that  in  the  face  of 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  3  I  3 

fierce  opposition  he  had  stoutly  maintained  this  belief. 
The  old  gentleman  was  rather  limber  when  he  went 
home.  He  never  drinks  to  excess  except  when  he 
meets  some  of  his  old  Mexican  war  veterans.  Is  Fred 
doing  anything?  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  surprised  us  all.  Works  as  if  he  were 
a  hired  hand." 

"  In  love  with  anybody  at  present?" 

"  No.  He  told  me  the  other  day  that  beauty  had 
lost  all  charm  for  him,  and  that  hereafter  he  should  look 
more  to  mental  qualities." 

Henry  gave  a  sort  of  jolting  grunt.  "  He  will  now 
look  toward  the  '  Baron's  Daughter/  I  suppose." 

"  Miss  Bumpus?  " 

"Yes." 

"  No,  I  think  not.  She  came  over  the  other  night, 
and  when  she  had  gone,  Fred  told  me  that  she  made 
him  very  tired. " 

"  Humph,  the  boy  must  have  been  cultivating  his 
mind  lately." 

"  By  the  way,  Miss  Burnpus  took  occasion  to  remark 
that  you  seek  to  make  fun  of  her." 

"  Humph;  she  is  penetrating." 

"  She  says  that  you  have  no  sympathy  for  literary 
women." 

"  She  is  wrong.  There  are  some  literary  women 
whom  I  almost  worship,  but  they  are  women  who, 
instead  of  lolling  about,  sighing  for  sympathy,  get 
down  to  hard  work.  I  have  but  little  patience  with 
the  self-anointed  genius  who  does  not  recognize  the 
necessity  of  patient,  uncomplaining  toil.  Sometimes 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

a  name,  hitherto  unknown,  bursts  suddenly  into  the 
full  bloom  of  reputation.  We  marvel,  we  wag  our 
heads,  and,  having  been  disappointed  ourselves,  cry 
out  against  the  presumptive  prodigy;  but  could  we 
have  peeped  through  the  blinds  at  midnight,  could  we 
have  seen  the  lamp  burning  into  the  sunlight  of  a  day 
that  has  come  too  soon  and  unexpectedly,  we  should 
have  found  the  presumptive  prodigy,  deep  in  study, 
lost  to  all  thought  of  self  save  the  merciless  thought  of 
self-criticism.  'The  Baron's  Daughter'  is  not  that  sort 
of  a  prodigy.  She  has  ability  —  she  has  the  raw 
material,  but  she  attempts  to  weave  before  she  has  spun 
her  threads." 

"  What  are  you  writing,  Henry?" 

"  I  am  engaged  on  another  book." 

"  Why  don't  you  shut  yourself  up  somewhere?  I 
should  think  that  people  dropping  in  here  would  greatly 
annoy  you." 

"  My  dear  boy,  my  door  is  open  to  my  characters. 
They  live  here  in  this  town,  and  they  drop  in  occa 
sionally  to  see  me.  Sometimes  a  fellow  comes  in  and 
by  a  smile  or  a  word  pulls  me  out  of  a  marsh.  I  thus 
catch  impressions  during  the  day,  scratch  them  down, 
and  at  night,  when  I  am  alone,  smooth  them  out  and 
tuck  them  away  in  their  manuscript  bed.  This  is  the 
first  time  you  have  been  in  town  since  the  fight,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,  for  the  scene  is  not  altogether  agreeable  to 
me." 

"  It  was  not  altogether  agreeable  to  me  when  I  har 
angued  the  mob,  after  seeing  you  off.  I  thought*  at 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  315 

one  time,  that  I  should  be  torn  to  pieces.  The  next 
day,  however,  they  came  round  and  threw  quids  of 
tobacco  into  the  box." 

"  That  reminds  me  that  I  must  go  and  thank  the 
jailer's  wife  for  the  great  service  she  rendered  me  in 
throwing  the  keys  down  into  the  corridor.  I  wrote  to 
her,  telling  her  how  grateful  I  was,  but  don't  know 
that  she  received  the  letter." 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  said  Henry,  "  that  she  died 
of  pneumonia  a  few  weeks  after  that  night.  Come  in. " 

A  tall  man,  wearing  a  linen  duster,  had  stepped 
into  the  doorway. 

"  Mr.  Evans,  let  me  introduce  my  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  Burwood.  Mr.  Evans  is  our  sheriff,"  Henry 
added  when  the  tall  man  and  I  had  shaken  hands. 
"  I  suppose  you  remember  him?" 

M  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  You  recollect,  I  reckon,  when  I  took  you  in  charge 
at  the  mouth  of  that  alley  across  yonder,  Mr.  Bur- 
wood." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  that.  Have  this  seat,  Mr. 
Evans?" 

"  No,  I'll  set  right  here,"  he  answered,  lifting  the 
skirt  of  his  duster  and  throwing  one  leg  over  the 
corner  of  the  table.  "  That  was  a  squally  time,  I  tell 
you;  and  how  you  managed  to  get  away  without  being 
shot  all  to  pieces  is  something  I  don't  understand." 

"  Perhaps  if  he  had  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind 
to  manage  at  all  he  should  have  been  shot  all  to 
pieces,"  Henry  rejoined.  "  The  recklessness  resulting 


3  1 6  A  KENTUCKY  COL  ONEL. 

from  an  inability  to  think  is  doubtless  what  saved 
him. " 

"  That  may  be,"  Evans  answered;  "  still,  on  an  occa 
sion  of  that  sort  I'd  much  rather  have  time  to  think  8. 
little." 

"  Evans,"  Henry  remarked,  "  I  hear  that  you  gentle 
men  have  decided  to  let  Boyd  Savely  come  back." 

"  Why  you  gentlemen?  I've  had  nothin'  to  do  with 
it.  The  court  decided  to  wipe  the  whole  thing  out. 
I  couldn't  kick,  could  I?  Nobody  objected  to  Mr. 
Burwood's  comin'  back." 

"  You  must  remember,"  I  rejoined,  "that  the  part  I 
took  was  forced  upon  me. " 

"  Yes,  and  I  reckon  Savely  thinks  it  was  forced  on 
him,  too.  There's  no  use,  though,  in  worryin1  about 
his  comin' back,  for  he'll  behave  himself  all  right  unless 
he  gets  drunk,  and  if  he  does  get  drunk,  why,  I  reckon 
the  law  can  take  care  of  him.  That  was  the  worst 
fight  this  county  ever  saw,  and  she  has  seen  tough 
ones,  too,  I  can  tell  you.  I  went  through  the  war, 
and  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  fightin',  but  I  never 
saw  a  gamer  feller  than  young  Sam  Britsides.  It  was 
a  mighty  pity  he  was  killed." 

A  man  leaning  from  an  upper  window  of  the  court 
house  yelled:  "  T.  V.  Balch,  T.  V.  Balch!  " 

"They  are  calling  that  old  case,"  said  the  sheriff. 
"  I've  got  to  go  over  and  tell  what  I  know  about  it.  So 
long,  gentlemen." 

It  was  court-day  again,  but  how  different  from  one 
court-day  that  I  had  seen!  From  where  we  sat  we  could 
see  groups  of  farmers  gathered  on  the  public  square, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


317 


and  we  could  hear  the  coarse  laughter  of  the  saw-mill 
man  who  had  just  told  an  old  joke.  An  old  negro, 
with  a  number  of  shuck  horse-collars  strung  on  his 
arm,  passed  the  door,  humming  a  camp-meeting 
tune;  an  old  negro  woman,  with  a  basket  full  of  glazed 
ginger-cakes,  stood  near  the  court-house  door;  a 
Louisville  whisky  drummer,  with  his  feet  high  up 
against  an  awning-post,  sat  in  front  of  Major  Patter 
son's  tavern;  women,  carrying  baskets  of  eggs  and 
hanks  of  yarn,  rode  past,  followed  by  mule  colts  that 
bit  at  one  another.  The  tavern  bell  rang  for  dinner. 

"  Come,  let  us  call  on  Major  Patterson,"  said  Henry. 

The  Major  met  us  under  the  awning,  and  with  a 
great  show  of  courtesy  conducted  us  into  the  house. 

"  Won't  you  take  a  little  nip  before  you  eat  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  No  nip,"  Henry  answered. 

"  Wall,  it's  jest  as  free  as  water,  boys,  if  you  want  it. 
Here,  let  me  show  you  my  gran'son.  Come  here, 
Wash "  (calling  a  wild-looking  youngster).  "  Come 
here,  and  tell  these  gentle;;^;?  how  old  you  are." 

"  Five,  goin'  on  six  !"  the  boy  shouted,  seizing  a 
chair  and  slamming  it  against  the  wall. 

"Don't  be  bad,  Wash." 

"Will  if  I  want  to." 

"  If  you  don't  be  good  I  won't  let  you  ride  old  Jerry 
to  water." 

"  Don't  want  to  ride  him.  Ho  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
pointing  at  me,  "  bet  I  could  kill  you." 

"  Come,  let's  eat,"  said  the  Major  "  Step  this 
way." 


^8  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

The  dining-room  was  well  filled  with  people  who  had 
come  to  attend  court.  The  grand  jury  filed  in,  and  the 
commonwealth's  attorney,  young  and  airish  in  the  con 
sciousness  that  be  was  attracting  attention,  sat  down 
and  reached  up  his  hair,  reaching  over  from  the  back  of 
his  head  as  though  his  bulging  brow  were  an  arm's 
length  away.  The  circuit  judge  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
long  table.  He  wore  a  sort  of  poker-hand  graveness 
of  expression,  and,  when  tempted  to  smile  at  some  odd 
remark,  would  draw  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
and  clear  his  throat  with  an  echoing  hum,  hum.  Ham 
monds  and  Jinny  came,  and  Major  Patterson,  who  had 
seated  himself  near  Henry  and  me,  leaned  over  and 
whispered: 

"  Them  two  fellers  never  come  here  unless  I'm 
crowded.  I  san  only  count  on  'em  when  court's  in 
session/' 

I  well  remember  the  conversation  that  was  held 
during  the  meal.  It  arises  now  above  the  recollection 
of  rattling  dishes  and  an  occasional  dog-fight  in  the 
hall. 

Hammonds  —  "  Judge,  how's  the  docket?  " 

The  Judge  (hum,  hum) — "  Pretty  full." 

Jinny — *'  Do  you  reckon  you'll  get  through  with  the 
Balchcase?" 

The  Judge  -—"I  don't  know.  We  can  never  tell  how 
long  a  case  may  last." 

Major  Patterson  (speaking  to  a  negro  boy) — "Drive 
them  devilish  dogs  out  of  the  hall." 

Commonwealth's  Attorney  (reaching  over  and  pulling 
back,  his  hair)  —  "  My  end  of  the  docket  is  pretty  heavy. 


A  KEN-TUCK Y  COLONEL. 


319 


Got  about  sixty  indictments,  and  the  grand  jury  still 
at  work." 

Patterson  —  "What  air  most  of  the  indictments 
fur?" 

Commonwealth's  Attorney — "Oh,  first  one  thing 
and  then  another.  Socked  it  to  one  feller  for  breaking 
the  Sabbath. " 

Hammonds  (looking  up  in  surprise)  —  "Sabbath- 
breaking,  did  you  say?  " 

Commonwealth's  Attorney  —  "  Yes;  shot  a  man  on 
Sunday." 

Hammonds  — "Oh,  I  see." 

Patterson  —  "  Whose  brindle  dog  is  that  out  there?  " 

Foreman  of  the  Grand  Jury — "  Mine." 

Patterson — "  Wall,  I  wush  you  had  either  left  him  at 
home  or  improved  his  disposition  befo'  you  brought 
him.  He's  wuss  than  a  rattlesnake  in  August." 

Foreman  —  "  He  ain't  a  lamb." 

Patterson  (to  negro  boy) — "  Dave,  git  some  b'ilin' 
water  and  fling  on  them  fetchtaked  dogs.  Ain't  no 
livin'  in  the  house  with  them." 

Hammonds  — "  What  has  Bose  Searcy  done  with 
that  claybank  hoss  he  used  to  ride?" 

Jinny  — "  Swapped  him  off,  I  heard." 

Hammonds  —  "  Good  thing  he  did.  The  nocountest 
horse  in  the  country.  Rode  him  once,  and  hanged  if 
I  wouldn't  as  soon  ride  a  hominy  pestle.  Who  did 
he  swap  with?" 

The  Judge  (hum,  hum) — "  He  swapped  with  me." 

Hammonds  —  "  Why,  I  mean  that  old  yaller  hoss." 

The  Judge — "  Yes,  I  know;  I've  got  him." 


J2O  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

Hammonds  —  "  I  don't  mean  that  big  yaller  one,  I 
mean  the — the  pony." 

The  Judge  —  "  Searcy  never  owned  a  yellow  pony/ 
Hammonds  (confusedly)  —  "  Judge,  I  —  I  —  I  didn't 
mean  to  cast  any  reflections  on  your  hoss.     Saw  you 

riding  him  to-day,  and " 

The  Judge  —  "  I  didn't  ride  him  to-day." 
Hammonds  —  "  Well,  I  must  get  back  to  work." 
The  Judge  cast  an  angry  glance  after  Hammonds, 
and   I  thought,  as  I   looked  at  the  judicial  gentleman, 
that,  regardless  of  his  dignity,  he  was  thenceforward 
to   be   Hammonds'    enemy;    and   I  afterward  learned 
from  Henry  that  Hammonds  could  not  have  given  the 
Judge  a  greater  affront,  and  that  if  Hammonds  should 
ever  run  for  an  office  the  Judge  would  take  a  galsome 
pleasure  in  opposing  him. 

"  It  is  rather  dangerous,  while  in  an  assembly  of 
Kentucky  gentlemen,  to  criticise  a  horse,"  said  Henry, 
when  we  had  returned  to  the  "  real  estate  office," 
"  for,  being  a  circulating  medium,  the  horse  is  likely, 
sooner  or  later,  to  belong  to  some  one  who  is  present." 
"  I  should  suppose,"  I  answered,  "  that  a  judge 
would  think  more  of  his  dignity  than  of  his  horse." 

"  Yes,  but  Biscomb  is  not  that  sort  of  a  judge;  he 
generally  has  more  horse  than  dignity;  he  is  more  pol 
itician  than  lawyer,  and  has  a  higher  regard  for  his  own 
prejudices  than  he  has  for  the  statutes.  He  is  vain 
glorious  and  dissolute,  though  he  has  been  seen  in  a 
devotional  attitude — kneeling  on  the  floor,  looking  for 
a  poker  chip.  While  on  the  bench  he  frowns  down  on 
the  drunkard,  yet  off  the  bench  he  is  not  as  sober  as 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


321 


Sir  Roger's  footman;  indeed,  no  one  would  think  of 
trimming  a  boat  with  him.  We  can  have  no  courts  of 
justice  until  the  judge's  office  ceases  to  be  one  of  polit 
ical  preferment.  By  the  way,  how  is  father's  book 
selling?" 

"  Very  well.  He  does  not  expect  any  sale  for  it  out 
side  of  Kentucky,  and  cannot  hope  for  a  large  sale  in 
the  State.  What  is  the  plan  of  your  forthcoming 
book?  " 

"  It  is  a  simple  story  of  country  life,  with  more 
truth  than  display,  more  shady  nooks  than  sun-glare, 
more  lazy  lolling  than  excitement.  Of  course  I  have 
strong  hopes  for  it,  but  an  author's  second  book,  fol 
lowing  one  that  has  been  measurably  successful,  carries 
more  anxiety  than  his  first  effort,  for,  having  been 
taken  on  probation,  the  author  must  prove  that  his 
friends  were  not  hasty  in  their  judgment  of  him;  and 
in  order  to  prove  this,  his  second  book  must  be  not 
only  as  good  as  the  first,  but  must  be  much  better. 
With  my  first  book  I  had  one  decided  advantage — > 
that  of  a  hidden  identity.  No  matter  how  obscure  a 
man  may  be,  writing  under  an  assumed  name  lends 
him  freedom.  The  bushwhacker  takes  better  aim  than 
the  recognized  soldier." 

"  Well,  it's  time  for  me  to  go.  Can't  you  come 
home  with  me?  " 

"  I  would  like  to,  but  the  calloused  hand  of  duty  is 
resting  rather  heavily  upon  me  at  present.  I'll  come 
out  some  day  and  wallow  in  the  woods  with  you." 

When  within  about  a  mile  of  home,  I  met  Luzelle. 


322  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

She  ran  excitedly  up  to  the  buggy,  and,  when   I  had 
helped  her  in,  she  exclaimed: 

"Philip,  you  couldn't  guess  in  a  hundred  years  wh^ 
is  at  the  house." 

"  If  I    couldn't    guess    in    that  length  of  time  it   is 
hardly  advisable  to  begin." 

"  You  haven't  kissed  me  yet,  Philip." 
"  Now  I  have.  Who  is  at  the  house?  " 
"  The  woman  that  Fred  married.  " 
0  What  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  You  are  joking." 
"  No,  I  am  not.  She  came  in  a  carriage  about  two 
hours  ago  and  is  waiting  to  see  you  before  she  goes 
back.  Oh,  she  does  look  so  bad;  so  pale  and  thin. 
She  is  dying  of  consumption.  Just  give  me  time  to 
get  my  breath*  back  and  I'll  tell  }^ou  all  about  it.  Ever 
since  she  nursed  you — why  didn't  you  tell  us  who  she 
was  ?  I  wouldn't  have  been  so  jealous  if  you  had — she 
has  been  nursing  in  a  hospital,  trying  to  atone,  she 
said,  for  her  misspent  life.  The  doctor  told  her 
that  she  couldn't  live  but  a  little  while,  '  and  I  could 
not/  she  said,  speaking  to  mother,  '  bear  to  think 
of  dying  without  coming  here  and  begging  for 
your  forgiveness.'  Any  one  not  understanding  the 
situation  would  have  thought  it  was  mother  who 
sought  forgiveness.  She  brought  a  chair  for  the 
poor  woman  and  compelled  her  to  sit  in  it.  Then 
she  brought  a  pillow,  and  at  the  sight  of  such  atten 
tion  the  woman  wept.  Of  course  every  one  has  for 
given  her,  for  who  could  resist  the  pleading  of  her 
Wasted  face?  You  can  well  imagine  what  an  effect  she 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


323 


had  on  father.  Isn't  her  coming  back  the  strangest 
thing  you  ever  heard  of?  " 

"  It  is  strange,  viewed  casually,  but  is  in  keeping 
with  the  woman's  character.  Have  Fred  and  Uncle 
Buck  seen  her  ?  " 

11  Yes,  but  neither  one  of  them  recognized  her  at 
first,  she  has  changed  so  much.  Uncle  Buck  was  con 
siderably  staggered,  but  Fred  wasn't  embarrassed  very 
much." 

When  we  entered  the  hall  Mrs.  Osbury  met  us,  and, 
with  both  hands  uplifted,  bade  us  walk  softly.  "  She 
has  had  a  hemorrhage,  and  is  nearly  dead.  We  have 
taken  her  into  my  room." 

When  I  entered  the  room  Miss  Hatton  lay  with  her 
eyes  closed.  Her  beautiful  hair,  having  broken  its 
fastenings,  covered  the  pillow  with  a  golden  mass.  She 
opened  her  eyes,  and,  seeing  me,  smiled  faintly;  then 
she  lay  as  if  asleep.  We  sat  about  the  bedside  and 
talked  in  whispers.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to  gain 
strength,  and,  attempting  to  get  up,  said:  "  Help  me 
to  the  carriage." 

"  The  carriage  is  gone,"  the  Colonel  answered. 

"  Gone!" 

"  Yes,  I  have  sent  it  back  to  town." 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  do  that?     I  must  not  die  here." 

11  You  must  not  leave  here  until  you  are  able." 

"Yes,  I  must  —  I  must  go  now.  What  will  your 
neighbors  think  if " 

"  It  shall  make  no  difference  what  they  think.  Please 
do  not  let  anything  worry  you.  Feel  that  you  are  at 
home." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  Home!  "  she  repeated.  Home!  —  my  God,  I  have 
never  known  a  home." 

"  Then  let  this  be  one. " 

"  Oh,  you  cannot  know  what  you  are  saying.  I 
who  have  wronged  you " 

"  Do  not  think  of  that,"  Mrs.  Osbury  cried.  "  We  all 
do  wrong,  but  we  are  taught  that  the  wrongdoer  who 
repents  causes  rejoicing  in  heaven.  Do  not  think  of 
any  wrong  you  may  have  done.  Think  of  the  Re 
deemer  who  smiles  upon  repentant  error  and  who,  with 
a  loving  embrace,  takes  the  erring  one  into  His  arms. 
Shall  I  send  for  a  preacher?  A  good  man,  who  lives 
but  a  little  ways  from  here,  would  be  glad  to  come 
and  console  you." 

"  No,  please  do  not  call  for  any  preacher,"  said  the 
dying  woman.  "  I  do  not  doubt  their  religion,  but, 
not  knowing  them,  I  do  not  feel  that  their  words  could 
help  me.  Mr.  Burwood,"  she  said,  "  the  watch  you 
gave  me  saved  me  from  starving.  Talk  to  me  about 
the  mercy  of  Christ,  will  you  please?  You  know  me 
—  I  have  told  you  how  bad  I  have  been.  Please  don't 
send  for  a  doctor.  He  couldn't  help  me." 

"  Miss  —  I  will  call  you  Hatton"  —  said  the  Colonel, 
before  I  could  reply,  "  your  soul  is  just  as  capable  of 
approval  as  any  soul  thathas  preceded  it.  Christ " 

"  Christ,"  she  repeated.  "  Let  me  think  of  that 
name.  I  have  read,"  she  continued,  attempting  to 
rise,  "  many  books  that  showed  Christ  to  be  simply  a 
man." 

"  Don't  believe  all  you  have  read,"  the  Colonel 
quickly  answered.  "  Shall  I  talk  to  you?  " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


325 


"If you  please." 

"  Wouldn't  you  rather  have  a  preacher?  " 

"  No,  I'd  rather  have  you." 

"  But  a  preacher  knows  the  book  better  than  I  do." 

"  But  does  he  know  the  soul  better?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  he  does.     I " 

She  sank  back  upon  the  pillow.  Luzelle  brought  a 
bottle  of  cordial.  Mrs.  Osbury  sat  gently  stroking 
Miss  Hatton's  hands. 

The  cordial  revived  her.  "  I  have  known  of  wise 
men,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  who  reasoned  themselves 
into  the  belief  that  Christ  was  simply  a  man,  yet  I 
have  never  known  of  one  who  was  contented  afterward. 
I  pay  but  little  attention  to  churches,  and  I  have  but 
little  regard  for  creeds,  but  I  have  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ." 

"The  name  has  a  sweet  sound,"  Miss  Hatton  an 
swered.  "  How  wonderfully  near  it  sounds.  Hitherto 
when  I  heard  that  name  it  seemed  to  have  come 
from  a  great  distance  —  from  across  stretches  of  sand, 
but  now  it  is  near.  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about 
death,  and  sometimes  I  cannot  get  away  from  the 
belief  that  it  is  simply  an  eternal  sleep,  with  not  even  a 
dream  to  light  up  its  awful  midnight.  I  have  thought 
while  lying  in  bed  that,  if  I  should  die  in  my  sleep,  I 
should  never  know  anything  again,  and  yet  I  always 
awoke  and  knew  that  I  had  slept.  I  would  rather  go 
to  a  place  of  punishment  than  to  know  nothing  at  all 
hereafter.  To  me  there  is  nothing  so  awful  as  uncon 
sciousness.  My  only  dread  of  death  comes  from  the 


326  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

fear  that  I  shall  know  nothing  hereafter  —  that  through 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  years  I  shall  be  nothing." 

"  I  cannot  help  but  believe  in  a  future  existence/' 
said  the  Colonel.  "  It  does  not  seem  possible  to  me 
that  there  can  ever  be  a  total  extinction  of  something 
which  I  feel  within  me.  It  seems  possible  that  this 
something  could  sleep  for  thousands  of  years,  but  that 
some  time  it  must  awake." 

An  expression  of  gladness  lighted  her  face.  "  I  feel 
that  something,  too,"  she  replied.  "  I  feel  it  now 
stronger  than  I  ever  felt  it  before — and  —  and  with  it  all 
a  strange  love  is  —  is  taking  possession  of  me.  What 
is  it  —  I  —  my  God,  I  am  afraid  to  be  happy,  but  I  am. 
Merciful  Christ!  I  believe  —  I  know  that  I  have  a 
soul,  and  that  it  is  filled  with  a  love  that  is  beautiful 
and  pure." 

For  a  long  time  she  lay  without  attempting  to  speak, 
and  as  I  looked  upon  her,  I  mused:  "  If  forgiveness  is 
religion,  who  shall  say  that  her  soul  has  not  been. puri 
fied?" 

The  clock  had  struck  the  hour  of  midnight.  The 
dying  woman  lifted  her  wasted  arms,  held  them  as 
though  she  were  receiving  something,  and,  in  a  whisper, 
said:  "Welcome." 

She  did  not  speak  again,  but  when  the  clock  struck 
one,  the  Colonel  said:  "  She  is  gone." 

We  buried  her  in  the  old  orchard.  At  last  she  had 
found  a  home. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

AUGUST  came,  and  the  leaves  on  the  bushes  that 
bordered  the  county  roads  were  covered  with  dust. 
The  main  topic  of  conversation,  among  the  farmers, 
was  the  great  need  of  rain  ;  and  at  church,  while  the 
preacher  was  urging  young  women  to  turn  from  the 
soul-tainting  ways  of  the  world,  men  sat  under  the 
trees  discussing  the  sad  plight  of  the  late  corn.  The 
old  saw,  "  If  it  don't  rain  we'll  have  a  mighty  long 
dry  spell, "was  a  current  coin  at  the  store,  the  toll- 
gate  and  the  blacksmith's  shop.  Young  fellows  who 
ordinarily  took  no  interest  in  the  talk  of  old  men, 
would  sit  in  front  of  the  store  and  listen  with  keen  in^ 
terest  to  tales  of  dry  weather  away  back  in  the  forties; 
and  Uncle  Buck,  finding  that  his  memory,  and,  more 
over,  his  invention,  had  made  him  an  important  factor 
of  the  gathering,  hugged  the  shade  of  a  white  oak  tree 
and  told  of  parched  grass,  of  twisted  corn-blades  and 
of  meadow  land  that  was  baked  as  hard  as  a  brick.  His 
flute  exercises  were  cut  down  to  the  minimum  of  neces 
sary  practice,  and  at  meal-time  he  was  in  such  haste  to 
return  to  the  store  that  he  frequently  left  the  tablf; 
with  a  hunk  of  bread  in  his  hand. 

One  night,  after  an  excessively  hot  day,  when  alow, 
rolling  cloud  had  been  muttering  and  growling  in  the 
tvest,  a  heavy  rain  began  to  fall,  and  when  morning 

327 


328  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

came  the  garden  and  fields  looked  young  in  their  fresh 
ness. 

At  the  breakfast  table  it  was  noticed  that  Uncle 
Buck  did  not  eat  with  his  lately  acquired  haste. 

"  Buck,"  the  Colonel  remarked,  "  you  don't  feel  very 
well  this  morning,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  feel  all  right.  Nobody  ain't  heard  me  com 
plain,  have  they  ?  " 

"No,  but " 

"  But  what,  Remington  ?  " 

He  put  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and,  with  his  el- 
bovrs  placed  upon  the  table,  sat  gazing  at  the  Colonel. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Colonel,  of  course  I  don't 
know,  but  you  don't  appear  to  be  eating  with  your 
usual  relish.  It  may  be  that,  having  more  time,  you 
are  more  deliberate." 

"  Oh,  you  be  blamed,  Remington.  I  know  what  you 
mean.  Man  can't  set  around  with  a  party  of  friends, 
after  he  has  worked  like  a  nigger  makin'  a  crop,  with 
out  you  sayin'  some  mean  thing.  " 

"  Why,  my  dear  suh,"  the  Colonel  replied,  winking 
at  me,  "  you  beat  anybody  I  ever  saw  to  reach  out  and 
grab  a  wrong  construction.  Of  course  you've  got  a 
right  to  sit  around  and  talk  to  your  friends,  and,  know 
ing  your  enjoyment  of  this  right,  I  was  wondering  why 
you  didn't  make  your  usual  haste  in  getting  back  to 
the  company." 

"  You  know  they  won't  be  there  to-day — hang  it! " 

"  Simply  a  drouth  circle,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  have  it  that  way." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


329 


"  Got  no  use  for  an  oracle  except  during  dry 
weather.  r 

"  Who's  an  oracle?" 

"Why,  er " 

"  Why,  nothin',  that's  what ! "  the  old  fellow  exclaimed. 
"  Remington,  I  am  sometimes  tempted  to  think  that 
you  can  be  as  mean  a  man  as  I  ever  saw." 

"  Remington,"  said  Mrs.  Osbury,  "  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  worry  him.  You  know  he  can't  stand  a 
joke,  and " 

"  Joke !  "  Buck  roared.  "  Can't  stand  a  joke !  Well, 
that  beats  anything  I  ever  heard.  Mary,  I  can  stand  a 
joke  as  well  as  any  man  in  this  world,  but  I  don't  like 
to  be  abused;  I  can  tell  you  that.  Remington,  if  you 
don't  want  me  here,  just  say  so,  and  I'll  leave." 

"  Buck,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  if  I  have  hurt  your 
feelings  I  am  sorry  for  it.  I  reckon  the  rain  made  me 
mischievous.  This  is  your  home,  old  man;  you  know 
that.  You  are  just  as  welcome  here  as  if  you  owned 
the  place.  By  the  way,  you  took  a  great  fancy  to  that 
new  black  coat  of  mine.  It  doesn't  fit  me  very  well, 
and  I  reckon  you'd  better  take  it." 

"  Don't  fit  you !  "  Fred  cried.  "  It  fits  you  better  than 
any  coat  I  ever  saw  you  wear. 

"  No,  I  think  not,  my  son.  It  is  a  little  too  tight 
under  the  arms." 

"  Remington,  I  know  it  does  fit  you  and  I  won't  take 
it,"  the  old  man  generously  responded.  "  By  the  way, 
I  heard  something  yesterday  while  I  was  down  at  the 
store  that  made  me  mad.  The  Nickelsons  are  talkin' 
about  us." 


330 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


"  How  so?  "  the  Colonel  asked. 

"  W'y,  they  said  that  takin'  that  woman  into  the 
house " 

"  That'll  do,"  the  Colonel  broke  in.  "  I  don't  want 
to  hear  any  more  of  it." 

"  Well,  but  you  ought  to  know.  Miss  Nickelson — . 
the  one  with  a  pug  nose  —  said  that  we  pretended  to 
be  mighty  proud,  but  that  we  showed  our  true  selves 
by  takin'  up  with  that  woman." 

"  That  will  do,  I  say." 

"  You  might  search  that  whole  family,"  Fred  re 
marked,  "  and  you  wouldn't  find  as  much  heart  as  an 
oyster's  got." 

"  I  think  I  know  the  cause,"  said  Luzelle.  "  I  had 
to  snub  Miss  Nickelson  once.  The  company  she  kept 
was " 

"  Let  it  all  go,"  the  Colonel  demanded.  "  It  would 
have  made  no  difference  to  me  if  every  finger  in  this 
neighborhood  had  been  pointed  in  scorn  at  us,  I 
should  have  acted  as  I  did.  Our  family  is  well  enough 
•established  to  ride  over  a  thousand  Nickelsons.  Now 
let  it  drop.  'Don't  mention  it  again." 

Immediately  after  breakfast  Uncle  Buck  began  to 
follow  the  Colonel  about  the  house,  and,  regardless  of 
his  generous  refusal  of  a  kind-hearted  offer,  I  heard 
him  ask: 

"  Remington,  where's  that  coat?  " 

The  garment  was  given  to  him,  and,  muttering  in 
self-congratulation,  he  carried  it  to  his  room. 

11  Bhilip,  are  you  going  out  to  the  field  to-day? " 
Luselle  asked. 


A  KENTUCKY  C01-OXEL. 


331 


No;  the  ground  is  too  \vet  for  the  men  to  do  any 
thing.     There  isn't  very  much  to  be  done,  any  way. " 

"  Let  us  hitch  up  old  Tom,  then,  and  drive  up  on 
the  ridge." 

The  day  was  delightful,  with  August's  faint  sugges 
tion  of  autumn.  I  had  never  seen  Luzelle  more  joy 
ous.  Nothing  along  the  roadside  escaped  her  half- 
mischievous  comment.  When  we  had  come  to  the 
spout  spring  she  bade  me  drive  the  horse  into  a  cove, 
where  the  dampness  of  the  rocks  had  kept  the  gras* 
green. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  I  asked. 

"  Can't  you  see?  We  are  going  to  let  old  Tom  eat 
grass  while  we  enjoy  out  picnic." 

"Are  we  going  to  eat  grass  too?  "  I  asked 

"Look    in    the    buggy-box!"    she    laughingly    an 
swered. 

I  looked,  and  I  don't  think  that  I  ever  saw  a  more 
tempting  luncheon. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  I  was  invited  to  such  a  spread. 
When  did  you  make  these  arrangements?  " 

"  I  have  had  plenty  of  time  for  all  needed  prepara 
tions.  For  several  days  I  have  had  this  trip  in  view. 
I  was  only  waiting  until  it  should  rain.  It  is  a  pity  to 
spread  the  cloth  on  these  pretty  ferns.  But  we'll  have 
to  do  it." 

Even  the  birds  seemed  fresher  since  the  rain;  their 
feathers  were  brighter  and  their  songs  were  fuller  of 
the  notes  of  joy. 

"  Philip,  you  see  I  am  determined  that  our  lives  shall 
not  become  commonplace." 


332  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"You  have  a  dread  of  anything  that  is  commonplace, 
haven't  you,  Luzelle?  " 

"  Yes,  a  horror!  Kentucky  is  not  a  commonplace 
State.  Much  of  the  sentiment  that  first  found  its  way 
to  America  has  been  filtered  into  Kentucky." 

"  You  don't  find  me  disposed  to  let  our  livesbecome 
a  matter-of-course  existence,  do  you?  " 

"  No,  Philip.  In  you  I  have  not  met  with  a  single 
disappointment.  And  have  you  been-  disappointed 
in  me?  " 

"  No;  not  in  the  least." 

"Not  the  least  bit?" 

"  No,  but  upon  the  contrary  I  have  discovered  in 
your  gentle  nature  a  hundred  unsuspected  beauties." 

"  It  is  kind  of  you,  Philip,  to  talk  that  way." 

"  But  I  am  telling  the  truth." 

"  Even  though  you  were  not  telling  the  truth,"  she 
answered,  "  I  should  want  you  to  pay  me  such  compli 
ments.  " 

Upon  returning  home  we  found  that  Henry  had  just 
arrived. 

"  Phil,"  said  he,  "let  us  go  into  the  garden;  I  have 
something  to  tell  you." 

"  May  I  go,  too?  "  Luzelle  asked. 

"  No,  I  want  to  see  Phil  privately." 

"  But,"  she  half-whimsically  insisted,  "  he  shouldn't 
have  any  business  that  must  be  kept  from  me." 

"  That's  all  right,"  Henry  rejoined.  "  We'll  see  you 
after  awhile.  Run  along  now  and  gather  up  your  quilt 
pieces. " 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


333 


When  we  had  walked  some  distance  down  the  gar' 
den  path,  Henry,  placing  his  hand  on  my  arm,  said: 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  before  I  tell  you  the  news  I  brought 
you  out  to  hear,  let  me  ask  you  something  more  of  the 
woman  who  died  here.  The  last  time  I  saw  you  I  be 
lieve  you  said  that  she  had  read  my  book  to  you  while 
you  were  in  Tennessee." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  her  —  wish  I  had  been 
here  when  she  died.  I  am  interested  in  her  character. 
I  met  a  man  the  other  day  who  knew  her  in  Cincinnati. 
He  declared  that  she  had  a  wonderfully  bright  mind. 
I  wish  you  would  write  your  experience  with  her. 
From  it  I  may  get  at  her  character  well  enough  to  war 
rant  my  use  of  her  in  a  book  —  but  I  wish  I  had  seen 
her.  Now  for  the  news:  Boyd  Savely  has  returned." 

"  I  have  been  expecting  him,"  I  answered,  exhibit 
ing  no  concern,  but  feeling,  I  must  acknowledge,  a 
keen  anxiety.  "  Have  you  seen  him,  Henry?  " 

"  I  met  him  on  the  sidewalk  near  Jinny's  place.  We 
looked  at  each  other,  but  did  not  speak.  I  saw  the 
sheriff  shortly  afterward,  and  he  told  me,  with  annoy 
ing  coolness,  that  Boyd  had  been  drinking.  If  that 
be  true,  we  may  expect  trouble.  An  old  negro  who 
works  for  Patterson  —  the  one  who  wears  the  tin  sign  — 
told  me  that  he  heard  a  conversation  between  Savely 
and  a  dissolute  fellow  named  Bates,  and  that  Savely 
remarked  that  so  soon  as  he  could  sell  his  farm,  he 
would  attend  to  another  important  piece  of  business 
and  then  go  away,  never  to  return.  Let  us  sit  down 
here.  Now, "  he  added,  when  we  had  seated  ourselves 


334 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


on  a  bench,  "  you  cannot  afford  to  let  him  take  even 
the  slightest  advantage." 

"  But,  Henry,  I  cannot  lie  in  wait  for  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not." 

"  Then  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"  I'll  swear  I  don't  know.  You'd  better  carry  a 
-shot-gun  to  the  field  so  that  you  may  be  prepared 
for  him." 

Just  then  some  one  yelled:  "  I  don't  want  you  to 
work  here  another  day!" 

Looking  up,  we  saw  old  Buck  standing  near  the  gar 
den  fence,  angrily  shaking  his  fist  at  Jack  Gap,  who 
stood  in  the  orchard.  "  Not  another  day,  mind  you." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  ole  man?  I  didn't 
tech  yo'  late  termatuses,  nor  yo'  'arly  ones,  nuther.  " 

"  Yes,  you  did,  you  good-for-nuthin'  scoundrel. 
There's  hundreds  of  them  all  over  the  country,  but  you 
had  to  come  here  and  steal  mine,  an'  then  tromp  down 
the  vines.  I  want  you  to  get  right  off  this  place." 

"  Mr.  Burwood's  got  sump'n  to  say  to  that,  I 
reckon." 

"  You  don't  reckon  nuthin'  of  the  kind.  Git  off  this 
place  or  I'll  fill  you  so  full  of  lead  that  a  yoke  of  steers 
couldn't  drag  you." 

"  That's  all  right,  ole  man.  Why  don't  you  go  on 
down  to  the  sto'  and  tell  them  fellers  how  dry  you'Ve 
seed  it?" 

"  What  did  you  say,  you  infernal  thief  ?" 

"  Said  it  rained  last  night." 

"You  air  a  liar." 

"So'safrog." 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL.  -?  3  r 

o^  j 

"  Wall,  I'm  done,  now.  I'm  not  goin'to  say  another 
word  to  you. " 

The  old  man  passed  without  seeing  us.  His  cheeks 
were  puffed  out  with  rage,  and  the  roll  of  fat  under  his 
chin  had  grown  purple. 

"  The  old  gentleman's  early  employment  as  tragedian 
in  that  stirring  play,  'Caught  on  a  Snag/  seems  to 
have  unfitted  him  for  the  soberer  vocations  of  life/' 
Henry  remarked.  "  Does  he  meddle  very  much  with 
your  management  of  the  farm?" 

"  He  is  not  stingy  of  advice,  but  I  have  no  trouble 
with  him.  Wonder  if  the  old  fellow  would  fight  if  he 
were  shoved  into  a  corner?" 

"  It  would  require  greater  strength  to  shove  him  into 
a  corner  than  it  would  to  whip  him.  Here  comes 
fether." 

"  What  are  you  boys  talking  about  in  such  a  secret 
way?"  he  asked,  seating  himself. 

"  Something  that  we  must  keep  from  mother  and 
Luzelle/'  Henry  answered.  "  Boyd  Savely  has  re 
turned." 

The  Colonel  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and 
{hen  took  off  his  hat,  placed  it  on  the  ground,  turned 
to  me  and  said: 

"  There  is  but  one  way  to  serve  him,  suh." 

"  And  what  way  is  that?" 

"  The  way  you  would  serve  a  mad  dog,  suh." 

"  I  would  hunt  for  a  mad  dog,"  I  replied,  "  to  kill 
him  lest  he  should  bite  some  one,  but  as  Savely  is  not 
on  an  indiscriminate  rampage,  I  think  that  I  ought  to 
let  him  hunt  for  me." 


336  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

"  You  are  right,  Phil;  you  are  right.  I  have  strong 
confidence  in  your  ability  to  take  care  of  yourself. 
Take  a  shot-gun  with  you  wherever  you  go,  and  keep 
a  sharp  lookout.  Don't  make  the  first  break  —  let  him 
show  his  intentions  —  and  then  fill  his  hide  so  full  of 
holes  that  it  wouldn't  hold  carpet-rags.  That's  the 
way  to  do.  The  value  of  all  human  life,  suh,  arises 
from  the  estimate  which  an  individual  sets  upon  his 
own  life.  They  are  calling  us.  Let  us  go  to  the 
house." 

We  found  Hammonds  on  the  porch,  talking  to  Mrs. 
Osbury  and  Luzelle.  When  we  came  up,  Luzelle  ex 
claimed: 

"  Guess  what  has  happened!  " 

"  Don't  know,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  unless  the  creek 
has  caught  fire." 

"  Somebody's  married." 

"  Is  it  Fred?  "  Henry  asked,  winking  at  the  Colonel. 

Mrs.  Osbury  had  began  to  expostulate,  when  Luzelle 
said: 

"  Captain  Jinny  and  Miss  Annie  Bumpus." 

"  It's  a  fact,"  said  Hammonds,  grasping  his  whiskers, 
ducking  his  head  over  the  "  banisters,"  and  then  duck 
ing  it  back  and  spitting  on  the  floor.  "  They  didn't 
say  a  word  to  me  about  it;  nobody  on  the  place  sus 
pected  it.  I  didn't  go  to  town  to-day,  having  some 
tinkering  to  do  around  home,  and  I  noticed  that  when 
Joe  came  out  of  his  room  he  looked  sheepish,  but  I 
didn't  think  much  of  it  at  the  time.  He  went  away, 
and  about  two  hours  afterward  came  back  with  Miss 
Annie.  I  dittn't  think  anything  cf  that  either,  but 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL, 

when  says  he,  '  Eli,  this  is  my  wife,'  why,  I  was  struck 
amidships,  as  the  fellow  says.  Mrs.  Jinny  didn't 
exactly  send  me  over  here,  but  she  told  me  that  if  I 
did  come,  I  must  leave  a  message  for  you,  Henry,  to 
be  sent  up  to  town  in  case  you  should  not  come  out 
soon." 

"  I  am  here;  deliver  the  message." 

"  Well,  she  wants  you  to  write  something  about  the 
marriage.  She  would  have  invited  you  and — all  of 
you,  in  fact  —  but  she  and  Joe  had  agreed  to  surprise 
everybody.  She  wants  you  to  send  off  a  dispatch — - 
put  down  some  jots  for  you.  Here, "he  added,  taking 
out  a  piece  of  paper  and  giving  it  to  Henry.  "  Says 
she  wouldn't  trust  anybody  else.  Wants  you  to  say 
that  she  won't  go  on  the  stage  again,  but  will  help  Joe 
in  the  store  and  devote  herself  to  writing  when  busi 
ness  is  slack.  They  are  going  to  start  right  away  for 
Bidson  County,  and  spend  a  few  weeks  with  Annie's 
kin-folks.  You  might  speak  of  that,  too.  Well,  r 
must  be  getting  back.  Don't  forget  it,  Henry," 

Henry  sat  down  on  the  steps.  The  Coionci  roarefl 
when  Hammonds  was  no  longer  within  hearing.  "  Now, 
what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you,  Remington?  " 
Mrs.  Osbury  asked.  "  And  you,  too,  Philip  —  and  all 
of  you!  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  you?  I 
don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at." 

"  Why,  mother,"  said  Luzelle,  "  don't  you  see  any 
thing  ridiculous  in  such  a  request?  " 

"  Ridiculous!  Why,  no.  The  bride  wants  some 
thing  written  about  her  marriage  and  expresses  her 
confidence  in  Henry.  I  don't  see  anyth'ng  ridiculous 


338  A  KENTUCKY  COL  ON  EL. 

Freddie,"  she  added,  as  Fred  came  around  the  house, 
"  Miss  Annie  Bumpus  and  Captain  Jinny  are  married." 

"  So  Hammonds  told  me.      Met  him  out  yonder. " 

"And,"  Mrs.  Osbury  continued,  "the  bride  sent 
word  that  she  wants  Henry  to  write  something  about 
the  wedding,  and " 

"She's  a  fool!" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Frederick!  I  declare  I  never 
saw  such  people  in  my  life.  Come  here  to  me,  suh. 
Ain't  you  ashamed  to  talk  that  way?  " 

"  Well,  ma,  what  is  there  to  her  to  write  about? 
She's  crazy;  that's  what's  the  matter  with  her." 

"Oh,  I'll  write  about  her,"  said  Henry.  "  I'll  give 
her  about  four  columns  of  small  type." 

"  I  don't  think  that  much  is  necessary,  my  son,"  Mrs. 
Osbury  answered.  "  A  column,  I  should  think,  would 
be  sufficient.  Now,  Remington,  just  look  at  you.  A 
body  can't  say  a  word  but  you  have  to  snort  like  a 
horse." 

"  Mother,"  Henry  remarked,  "  I'll  tell  you  the  best 
plan.  We  can  write  her  up  in  the  next  edition  of  '  The 
History  of  Shellcut  County.' ' 

"  That  will  take  rather  too  long  a  time,  my  son. 
Now,  just  look  at  Remington  again." 

"  I  don't  know  how  the  community  at  large  stands 
on  the  subject,"  said  the  Colonel,  wiping  his  eyes, 
"  but  I'm  going  to  take  a  mint  julep." 

Before  I  sank  to  sleep  that  night  many  tired  hours 
seemed  to  tramp  through  my  mind,  with  the  clock's 
tick-tack  serving  as  the  sound  of  their  footsteps. 
Other  feverish  hours  had  I  known  hi  that  room,  but 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


339 


they  had  been  stirred  into  restlessness  by  a  love  that 
thought  itself  repulsed.  Now  the  object  of  that  love 
lay  beside  me,  gently  sleeping — sleeping  in  sweet  inno 
cence  of  the  fact  that  she  had  made  a  coward  of  me. 

In  the  morning,  as  we,  holding  each  other's  hands, 
were  walking  down  the  hall,  Luzelle  said: 

"  Philip,  you  don't  look  well  this  morning." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  ill,  dear,  only  I  didn't  sleep 
very  much." 

"  What  worried  you?"  she  asked,  stopping  me  and 
gazing  into  my  eyes. 

"  Oh,  nothing  of  importance.     The  drouth " 

"  Why,  you  said  the  drouth  didn't  hurt  the  early 
corn." 

"  No,  but  the  late  corn " 

"  But  don't  you  know  you  said  the  rain  came  in  time 
for  that?  Now,  please  don't  let  anything  bother  you. 
We  are  just  as  happy  as  can  be.  Come  on,  now,  and 
don't  worry. " 

After  breakfast,  when  she  asked  me  why  I  was  taking 
a  gun  with  me  to  the  field,  I  answei^a  that  a  mad  dog 
had  been  seen  in  the  neighborhood,  and  that  I  wanted 
to  be  prepared  in  the  event  of  receiving  a  call  from  the 
rabid  animal.  This  story  also  served  me  in  the  way  of 
forbidding  Luzelle's  daily  visits  to  the  field.  Several 
days  passed,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  Savely.  The 
weather  had  become  intensely  hot  again,  and  the 
white  dust  of  the  turnpike  lay  thick  on  the  orchard 
grass.  One  evening  Henry  came  from  town,  and,  after 
telling  me  that  he  had  seen  Savely  drunk,  added: 
"  And  I  hear  from  a  trustworthy  source  that  he  has  sold 


3 /J.O  A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 

his  farm.  In  my  opinion,  he  will  make  an  effort  to  khl 
you  before  he  can  get  his  own  consent  to  leave  the 
neighborhood.  I  will  stay  down  here  several  days,  to 
serve  you  should  he  ring  in  any  of  his  friends.  But 
that  is  not  likely.  I  don't  think  that  he  has  a  friend  he 
could  draw  into  danger." 

The  next  morning  Henry  went  out  to  the  field  with 
me.  My  men  were  breaking  up  the  fall  wheat  land. 
Just  before  dinner-time  Henry  and  I  were  standing 
near  a  fence  that  ran  parallel  with  the  turnpike.  I  was 
listening  to  a  description  of  some  of  the  characters  in 
his  forthcoming  book. 

"  You  must  understand  that  this  old  man,"  said  he, 
"  is  only  humorous  in  a  sort  of  viciousness  that  he 
expresses." 

"  But  how  can  humor  be  vicious?"  I  asked.  "  Wit 
can  be  cruelty  itself,  but  humor,  I  should  think,  is 
genial. " 

"  You  are  right.  I  do  not  mean  that  the  old  fellow 
is  really  humorous.  I  mean  that  there  is  a  laugh-pro 
voking  quality  in  some  of  his  tirades  against  men  whom 
he  does  not  like  and  against  political  measures  which 
do  not  suit  him.  His —  By  the  Lord,  there  is  Savely !" 

I  looked  up,  and  not  more  than  twenty  yards  away 
saw  Savely  riding  toward  us.  The  horse  was  walking 
slowly,  and  the  rider  sat  with  his  head  bowed  over.  I 
reached  for  my  gun  and  cocked  it.  Suddenly  Savely 
looked  up,  and,  seeing  me,  snatched  out  a  pistol  and 
soused  his  spurs  into  the  horse.  The  horse  sprang  for 
ward,  stumbled  and  fell.  The  animal  got  up,  but  Savely 
did  not  arise.  We  ran  to  him.  His  neck  was  broken, 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


341 


The  white  dust  of  the  turnpike,  disturbed  by  his  fall, 
was  settling  down  upon  his  wavy  hair. 

*  *  *  * 

I  was  sitting  under  a  tree  when  two  men,  returning 
from  a  funeral  and  talking  in  loud  tones  as  the?'  passed, 
said: 

"  Might  never  have  happened  if  he  hadn't  been 
drunk." 

"  That  may  be,  but  I  always  hold  that  a  thing  that's 
goin'  to  happen  has  to  happen,  whether  or  no.  Do 
you  ricolleck  Hy  Sanderson?  He  was  killed  by  a  hoss 
mighty  nigh  the  same  way." 

#  *  #  * 

Luzelle  and  I,  resting  on  the  bench  under  the  lilacs, 
have  listened  to  the  whisperings  of  many  an  everving. 
It  is  summer  again,  early  at  morning,  and,  as  I  sit  in  an 
upper  room,  I  hear  the  jingle  of  trace-chains:  the  plow- 
boys  are  going  out  to  the  field.  I  have  just  received  a 
note  from  Major  Patterson,  in  which  he  tells  me  that  a 
stranger  from  Missouri  has  tried  to  "  run  over  old 
Tobias,"  but  that  the  stranger,  although  he  expressed 
his  intention  of  settling  in  Emryville,  has  left  the  town. 
The  jingle  of  the  trace-chains  dies  away,  and  now 
I  hear  the  wailing  notes  of  a  flute.  Presently  Uncle 
Buck  will  come  out  of  the  crib,  with  corn-silks 
hanging  to  him,  and  declare  to  some  one  that  he  is 
tired  of  working  like  a  "nigger."  Mrs.  Osbury  has 
just  returned  from  Hammonds'  house.  She  went 
thither  late  last  night,  as  Mrs.  Jinny,  who  boards 
<?here,  wanted  to  see  her  on  important  business.  I 


342 


A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL. 


understand  that  the  important  business  has  been  trans 
acted,  and  that  Mrs.  Jinny  is  doing  very  well. 

The  Colonel  has  just  left  me.  "  Phil,"  he  said,  while 
standing  in  the  doorway,  "  counting  in  the  satisfaction 
\ve  had  in  doing  the  work,  we  haven't  lost  anything  on 
the  history.  We  will  write  another  one,  suh." 

Henry's  novel  is  meeting  with  a  large  sale.  Some 
of  the  critics — those  who  know  nothing  of  the  people 
who  inhabit  the  household  of  his  book  —  are  disposed 
to  find  fault  with  it,  but  their  criticism,  Henry  declares, 
is  a  strong  recommendation. 

I  hear  a  sweet  voice,  and,  looking  down  into  the 
yard,  I  see  Luzelle  swinging  a  hammock;  and  to  her 
singing  there  arises  a  sort  of  cooing  accompaniment. 
She  bends  over  the  hammock,  and  a  little  somebody, 
reaching  up,  "  tangles  a  hand  in  her  hair." 

THE  END. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


FEE    5  1935 

«• 
JL 

^rv99\$fcl 

fl 

w& 

REC.  CIR.  Jim    715 

« 

.- 

.„--  nrr  MAR  07  '87 

:                  """  w  '      *  ' 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


•i"i    •••:•    ••III    |i|||   ||| 

8003001^2 


